Wonder Boy
by DigitalSorceress
Summary: The summer after Sirius' death, Harry decides to take a vacation. Only, he hasn't asked permission or left his itinerary. Finding out that superheroes exist is odd, but not really.
1. Prologue

Digital Sorceress

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

Retooled, and hopefully better. I will be replacing the rest of the chapters in the next few days with what I have rewritten. A new chapter should be out by this weekend.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

"Aunt Petunia. I have a proposition for you." Harry spoke, standing by the counter as she wiped at another plate with a dry towel.

She didn't respond, only her nostril flare acknowledging him. He forged ahead undaunted.

"I don't want to stay here anymore than you want me here. I have somewhere I can go, I just need to get there. If you drive me to London in the morning and drop me off I'll be gone before you can blink, and I won't be back until next summer. You won't have to see me for a whole year." The decision had been a while coming. He'd thought it over during the two weeks that were required, which he'd narrowed it down from the length of time he'd been left with his relatives from his past summers in their household.

His options were essentially and solely to wait and see where he would be assigned this year for Minding and Guarding: The Burrow, or Grimmauld.

Asking when he'd be rescued from the Dursely's had grown old last summer. The general consensus then had been that he was safest with the Dursley's because of the blood protection and he'd been left there as long as possible with no word on his reprieve or future plans towards it, at Dumbledore's pleasure essentially. So, he hadn't asked this year. He had simply existed, exchanging a few letters with Hermione and oddly enough Luna. There was no Sirius to write to now to ask for advice or to kill time or…anything. And Ron, Ron had been different after they'd returned from the Ministry and out of the Hospital Wing, avoiding him.

He was tired of facing the same three options: Dursely's, Weasley's, or Grimmauld. So, he was choosing another choice.

"What day and time?" Petunia's lips pursed somehow even as she spoke. The action gave her a very odd appearance. They agreed on something for once.

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><p>It had worked so flawlessly Harry was still expecting disaster to strike. Hedwig was off to Hermione's with strict instructions to kill time on the way there, preferably a day. She carried a letter simply saying not to worry about him and that he'd be back before school started. He hadn't sent her to the Weasley's because it would take Hermione at least a day to get in contact with Dumbledore or the Order. So two days clear, if things went well. He'd been resourceful, using the Invisibility cloak to get in the car in the first place. Aunt Petunia hadn't exactly appreciated that. Quite scandalized she'd only watched silently as he explained curtly what the ridiculously patterned blanket he was carrying was for. She'd opened the rear passenger door to put in her purse and drifted away a few feet, studiously ignoring anything unnatural that might be occurring in her lack of eyesight. The 'feather light' charm he'd cast on the trunk before leaving this year hadn't faded yet. Hefted vertically and carefully against his chest, Harry slid the trunk in before himself. Petunia stood by acting distracted by some uneven pruning on the nearest flowering shrub. Maybe she wasn't acting, he thought as her eyes narrowed. She seemed to decide after a few more minutes of inspection that he had had well enough time to get inside and slammed the door with relish resolutely. They didn't talk on the drive, and she didn't do more than widen her eyes as he slid the cloak off ten minutes out of Little Whinging. He didn't get out quite at Diagon Alley. Instead he let Petunia drive past for a short while and exited a street over and down. They parted without a word or well wish between them, as was their custom. He made his way back up with his head covered in a baseball cap he'd gotten at the World Cup sporting a shamrock. He slipped the invisibility cloak back on in an alleyway before rounding the corner. Dodging pedestrian traffic was more of a challenge than dodging Filch had ever been.<p>

He didn't honestly have a firm plan, he'd lied about that flat out. Just a vague notion of grabbing some money from Gringotts and hopping a train, boat or plane. Anything to get away from everything for as long as he was able.

Harry made his way to Gringotts undetected. He'd rarely been in Diagon Alley entirely alone, his third year the exception. The experience was quite contrasting to the usual mobbing or silent gazes and whispers that followed him the moment he drew near.

Inside the public men's room at Gringotts Harry shucked off the invisibility cloak, putting it into his school bag carefully. He tugged at the cap, ensuring it came down enough to cover his scar and the mess he called hair.

No one pointed and shouted as he crossed the small distance to the service desks, and he almost visibly relaxed as he moved up the queue.

His vault key preceded his words, clinking against the countertop to preempt a request for it or his name. "I need some galleons exchanged." Harry said to the Goblin as he leaned against the countertop to better block his voice and features.

"How much?" The Goblin asked, pursing his lips as he realized who Harry was.

"Um. I don't know. What's a galleon in Muggle money?" He hadn't bothered asking before, a bit thick of him actually. He'd never bothered exchanging for pocket money to keep on him at the Durselys' to avoid questions about where it came from.

"One galleon is approximately equivalent to 55.5 pounds." Was the stilted answer.

"Oh. Wow. I'd like…how much is in my account?" The Goblin raised an eyebrow, and Harry almost regretted phrasing it like that.

"Mr. Potter. You're current student vault holds 1917 galleons, 7904 sickles, and 14,873 knuts, until it is refreshed on your birthday."

"Um. Student vault?" Harry almost wished he hadn't seen the slight tic _of…something_ on the goblin's face. He wasn't trying to irritate anyone. The phrase of it refreshing had sounded odd as well, know that he thought it over.

"Your parents funded a trust for your schooling expenses. Your family vault holds the liquefied estate. Your holdings in their entirety aren't open to you until your seventeenth birthday. Your legal guardian receives your annual reports." The goblin sighed, clearly feeling as though this should have been something Harry was aware of.

Sirius had been his legal guardian, his godfather. And somehow Harry didn't think he'd been allowed mail in prison. And after he escaped, Dumbledore or someone probably put up wards to keep owls away that came for him, if he hadn't. Or else, couldn't they just have tracked Sirius down sending an owl after him? How humiliating that would have been.

"Well. I'm not saying they weren't sent, I just didn't see them." Harry trailed off awkwardly, uncertain of how to rein in the conversation. He didn't want to go into this, not today at least.

"Very well." He was relieved to hear the Goblin say, and thought that was the end of it nearly. He made to ask a few more questions while they were on his mind.

"I understand I can't access it, but can't I know what's in there?"

"We'll have a copy of your file brought up immediately." The goblin wrote something on a piece of parchment, placing it into an empty bin. It disappeared in an eye blink. "Your Godfather made you the beneficiary of his will, as well, if you had not also been aware."

"He did." Harry replied, trying to sound as though he knew _that_ bit already, and realized that he supposed it made a bit of sense. Rather twisted sort, hearing it like that from the cold Goblin.

"The Black family was very prominent in the community, and very wealthy. You were Sirius Black's sole heir as his godson. Everything in the Black name is now in the Potter name, your name." A stack of papers had generated in the paper holder in front of the goblin, with large cursive writing encompassing half of the first page. From the fact that the middle-aged witch in the next partition over didn't whirl around at Sirius' infamous name, he realized that there was a privacy charm around them. Wizards weren't usually that good at pretending they weren't nosy.

Harry nodded woodenly at that statement. That was common enough knowledge. He hadn't really thought about it. But telling a goblin he hadn't thought about money and piles of gold now in his name was probably some kind of insult.

"If you wish to relinquish your right to any of the-" Ah. Of course. Harry realized that Grimmauld place, the Order's headquarters, was in question.

"No. No. He left it to me. It's my responsibility." Harry shook his head, cutting the goblin off almost rudely.

"If you will follow me, we will require your signature on a number of documents. This way." The goblin hopped down from his high seat, taking the papers that had just appeared and vanished behind the counter before emerging on the end away from the door and waving him over.

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><p>Harry had been led to a small chamber to start signing like an automaton. They probably didn't want to waste time on a customer dotting i's and crossing t's.<p>

The paperwork he laid on a desk. The door closed behind him after he entered, not fast enough to scare him, but enough to let him know he was alone. There was an ink well and a selection of quills provided.

Harry sat down spreading the folders out to get it over with. X's marked the spots on the will documentation, and he'd signed his name as required for the property to be transferred to his name after reading the pages through to make sure he wasn't signing something he shouldn't be. None of it had been written in Sirius' hand, or in his words. Just signed as Harry signed his own name to take ownership of everything Sirius once owned. Probably hard for Sirius to arrange it at all, being on the run, he reasoned. And Sirius hadn't seemed the type to arrange things like this ahead of time, before he went to prison. After he finished the Black folder, he put that packet aside and opened the other he'd been left with in tired curiosity.

Harry stared at it as he sat in the private room he'd been offered. There was a short parchment and another two folders that revealed themselves to be magically thinner that they had a right to be. He flipped through them only briefly before choosing to embrace the summarized and much, much briefer version that they had chosen to place on top.

He had always known he was rich, the vault he'd been using for his schooling had given him that impression being chock full of gold coins and never seeming to empty all that much each year; not that he had gone to retrieve money often enough to take notice.

A listing of the Potter Family holdings, properties and financial statements read out in steady and fine handwriting on the page, followed by the supplemented Black family information.

"Well. Telling Ron's going to be awkward." Harry mused out loud, and shook his head for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

He fiddled briefly, before finally multiplying the totals mentally in resignation. His head hurt. In the Muggle world, his net worth was around four billion pounds. Management until he turned eighteen and was considered an adult in the Muggle world was directed through a series of companies which from what he could guess were goblin funded fronts.

He replaced everything as it was, and sealed the folders back together, intent on getting out of there and not getting immersed in it.

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><p>He'd emerged after spending probably a little more time than he should have going over the papers. After all, he was on the run. He couldn't count on Mundungus Fletcher's incompetence for much longer. Coming back he'd handed over what he'd been asked to sign before being informed that the folder with the financial information was his personal copy. "I'll not have time today for any other business today. I'm going to be out of the country for vacation and I'd prefer using a Muggle plane." The Goblin's eyebrows raised slightly. "I need a passport, if you know where I can get one?" He continued hopefully.<p>

"We can provide one now, for a modest fee of course." The goblin's eyes lit up at that.

"Yes, please. I need around five hundred Galleons withdrawn and converted also."

"If you are withdrawing such a large sum, I would suggest a Gringotts check book instead. To Muggle eyes it will appear to be a normal document and will process through our channels with a few adjustments and no impositions. There is also the option of the Muggle plastic card that is convenient and provides an automatic conversion of monetary funds. This method will ensure your money is protected and you will not run the risk of theft."

"Oh, okay. I didn't know you offered that." What exactly the Goblins would do to the poor soul attempting to use his card if Harry did manage to get it stolen, he didn't want to think about.

"It is a service that is convenient for those who deal with Muggles." Harry didn't nod, exactly. The Goblin was getting used to Harry's general lack of common knowledge. Well. That was a relief.

"I'd like both the card and the checkbook, please."

The Goblin handed over the small billfold after informing him of the fee with the check book and card on top. Harry opened the produced passport automatically. He'd been sure he'd need a picture taken but it was already there. Taken magically without time to pose apparently moments before. He realized that the Goblins must have some sort of magical version of security cameras, out of sight. The photograph didn't move. It looked real and official enough. Harry slipped the checkbook into his bag, and passport into his pocket. The card he tucked inside the passport for protection. He'd never had occasion to buy a wallet, but he'd have to now.

"Well. I'll be back. I'll look over this, while I'm gone. If you wouldn't mind being discreet that I was here to begin with?" Harry asked.

"Our customers value our discretion, Mr. Potter, and so do we, as you can see from your full account report." Harry had noted the monthly maintenance fee.

"Thank you." Harry said before he made his way to the exit, the documents secured in the magically charmed folder, trunk rolling behind him.

* * *

><p>Harry made double time back out of Diagon Alley. On hitting Muggle London he slid out of the cloak, stuffed it into his trunk more carelessly than he meant, and hailed a cab to the airport.<p>

After getting his luggage through the initial security by the entrance, he ran out of steam. His general lack of preparedness was catching up to him, full stop. He had no idea what he to do now that he reached his destination without being stunned for supreme stupidity by well-intentioned Order members or Aurors or the other guys. He had arranged his belongings with his clothing at the top of his trunk and naïvely he'd hoped no one would actually search it. There were small notice-me-not charms on it, he'd cast those the year before to keep his relatives out of his things. He calmed down, reassuring himself Muggles would leave it alone unless it was ticking. The Sneakascope occurred to him in a rush of small panic, and he went into the restroom, dragging it into the handicap stall to have room. He ensured the dark detector was in no less than three pairs of socks, in the dead middle of the trunk before slamming it once again.

Harry made his way back to the ticket area, becoming a bit more unsettled as he drummed his fingers along his pants leg considering his options. There were several screens listing departure times, and he began studying them after a few minutes of looking around. Planes were leaving within the next hour to locations across the globe. New York City, Los Angeles, Paris, Rome, and so on…Such foreign places. The excitement associated with them tempted him, but the times leaving were further away than he felt safe waiting for. He needed to get out of the country, as fast as possible. And he was limited by speaking only English and Latin, a dead language.

He narrowed down the earliest departure times and after a few moments he decided, Metropolis, NY. Leaving in an hour.

**TBC**


	2. Flight

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Once his ticket was purchased Harry had twenty minutes to kill.

He went into an airport gift shop for things to entertain him during the flight. He picked up a puzzle book, a package of pens and a random novel from the wall of new releases that seemed somewhat interesting. If only he'd been able to pack a sleeping draft without it looking suspicious…Aunt Petunia had warned him about that when she'd seen the glass vial in his hand that morning. Seemed she hadn't wanted a terror suspect for a nephew. It had seemed an iffy idea as well in retrospect because he needed all of his faculties. He grabbed a couple of water bottles and several different Muggle snacks, putting them in his school bag which was to be his carry on.

Harry grabbed a quick meal of a sandwich, crisps and soda in the few minutes left to him at a small café. He finished his drink and sandwich as he headed towards the boarding area, stuffing the bag of crisps into his bag for later.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake the entire flight, Harry drifted off. It was inevitable really, seven and change hours straight. He was asleep when the announcement came on that the flight was approaching their destination. The flight attendant's calm voice startled him out of an odd dream about Padfoot turned white chasing him as he flew to get away.

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><p>His trunk was fairly easy to spot on the conveyor in the luggage claim. He dragged it to the exit after going through security once more, his passport stamped. Apparently, there was some sort of Goblin charm on the document to not make them question why he didn't have a guardian with him since he was underage, or to question him much at all beyond the standard nature of his visit.<p>

A fleet of taxi's lined the street outside the entrance and he instructed the driver for a hotel in the city close to everything. The taxi edged it's way through traffic, unloading him outside of a Metro Hotel.

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><p>The Passport ID worked it's magic once more and he was able to book a room with no one questioning his age. That had never seemed a real issue to him; he'd never rented a room beyond the Leaky Cauldron, and that paid for without his handling of it. He supposed if push came to shove he could have chosen somewhere where he could bribe the manager to let him rent a room.<p>

"I'll be staying through the twenty ninth of August. I'll be paying in advance." Harry spoke softly handing the Goblin debit card over with his passport. The receptionist looked up, registering his face briefly as she took the card, examining it with a look of professionalism as she began entering the billing information.

"What room type would you prefer?"

"Um. Somewhere high up." The better to fly away from danger unnoticed. She looked up briefly.

"Would you prefer a King or Queen sized bed?" She rephrased, without him realizing.

"Whatever's available." Harry answered. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay. You'll be staying in room 709 with a closing date of August 29th." She smiled looking up from the screen.

She informed him of the charges and Harry nearly had a miniature heart attack at the amount. Nearly.

He finished registering and was surprised when instead of a metal key he was presented with a plastic card like his debit card. It read out that it was a room key though, and the receptionist informed him of the fact before he looked silly asking what it was.

"There is a hot breakfast buffet every morning from six to eight AM on the main floor, free to guests. Hotel amenities are explained in your guest packet, found inside your room. Enjoy your stay with us Mr. Potter."

"Thank you." He nodded distracted with gathering his pack and rolling trunk up and heading towards the elevators.

The hotel room was nicer than he was used to compared to his usual haunts outside of Hogwarts. There was a large television suspended on the wall. He was so unused to the object or rather unused to his being allowed to use it that he was faintly surprised to see it. The large bed looked extremely inviting, only missing the four posters and drapes he had grown to associate with a comfortable sleep. A writing desk and chair sat beside the bed, looking out of the window. A sofa, bedside table and a chest of drawers completed the room. The small balcony was covered in blinds to block out the mornings light if he wished. The bathroom was shiningly clean and he smiled faintly realizing he wouldn't have to clean it himself. He'd have to keep his magical things up and locked away. Not much of an issue really. He'd never been prone to leaving them out at the Dursleys' for entirely different reasons.

He'd set his trunk down on the side of the bed facing the window with the backpack containing the miscellaneous items he'd bought at the airport tossed on the bedside chair. After kicking off his shoes he sank into the bed in exhaustion. He nearly let himself drift into sleep before remembering Hermione talking about her trouble with jetlag on vacations with her parents. He had spent over seven hours in flight. His regular day was nearly done and it was around three here. He could stay in to rest and simply send himself off to sleep again with a potion if he woke before a decent hour. Or he could do the normal thing and fight it off. With caffeine. He could be caught at any moment after all and if he didn't do one single thing here before being dragged back to Headquarters by a full Guard the Twins at least would never let him live it down.

Dragging himself up took some effort, he stretched yawning and rubbed at his eyes. Spread across the bedside table were pamphlets about local attractions, and the guest information Harry read over. He stowed his trunk in the closet before heading out.

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><p>Harry decided it was probably time to eat after walking several blocks aimlessly. He went into the next place he crossed. It was small enough where he could feel comfortable but had a healthy enough crowd that he wouldn't draw attention. He sat inside the diner killing time for a while, letting the sun arch by.<p>

He walked along the crowded streets afterwards, happily loosing himself. No one pointed at him, stared long or whispered as he past. No one here wanted him dead. He played the tourist gamely, even buying a keychain at a corner market when he bought a water declaring that he Hearted Metropolis. He attached the trinket to his Gringotts vault key through some manipulation in amusement.

After he was a good dozen or so blocks from his hotel he decided not to hail a taxi and return as he'd come. An odd sound flew by overhead when he was half way back. Harry backed against a building, his eyes looking up into the fading sunlight. As he reached for his wand Harry's hand froze inside of his sleeve once he caught sight of what was happening.

That, that was someone flying. He wondered if he was hallucinating. But the man wasn't using a broom. The man was a distant blur of action punching at a sort of _robot_ that was flying as well. The man in red and blue took hits as well, though he didn't seem to even feel them. The man sent the robot against an empty space on the street, rubble spewed up and a few alarmed cries rang out. The crowd moved out of the fight's way with an organized sort of panic.

A spell maybe or Re'em blood could account for his strength, maybe? Some kind of levitation, enchanted clothes or something could explain his flight? A lot of wizards never quite knew how to dress in front of Muggles, it might seem perfectly normal to this man to dress in bright red underwear with his cape-like robe in front of Muggle crowds. Really the man should have taken Muggle Studies, Harry reflected in mild horrified fascination, as he glanced around. Aurors had to show up soon. This would actually be on the tele, there were actually photographers in the crowd. They'd have their work cut out for them, Obliviating everyone. How would they spin this? What possible story could cover this?

Harry turned back to the fight. But then, that man, he wasn't using a wand. He was using his fists. He never went for a wand. And a wizard who didn't know how to dress properly wouldn't not use magic against a robot. Hell, Harry wouldn't even try to not use magic against something like that, even with enhanced strength. And as he looked round the crowd once more, people looked like this was a perfectly normal thing to see. They were still cheering.

"Who is that?" Harry asked someone nearby.

"Are you blind? That's Superman!" The news stand owner looked over at him in shock and irritation before returning to cheering as Superman flew up, up and away. The now broken robot trailed underneath him looking like one of Dudley's tantrum destroyed toys.

"Superman?" Harry mouthed to himself. It sounded familiar, and he vaguely recalled his cousin talking about him when they were younger. Like a cartoon character or some such, before Vernon told Dudley not to talk about it anymore. What the bloody hell was a superman? Some kind of… not-a-wizard? What then, an, a spaceman of some sort? That was ridiculous. But, the robot, the metallic behemoth firing what looked like lasers, that wasn't normal either. Harry shook his head, before moving on.

**TBC**


	3. Acclimation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

He woke the next morning feeling strangely rested. The knowledge of no one knowing where he was had provided a level of security in and of itself that he hadn't yet managed to fully appreciate. This Super fellow had presented an odd mystery to distract him. He'd realized after walking around that the Giant S everywhere was _his_ symbol, and not the symbol for a sports team as Harry first assumed. He'd felt foolish asking about someone everyone was supposed to know about and resolved to just find out about it the way they always found out about everything back home, by going to the Library. Hermione would be proud.

Harry showered and dressed in a cannibalized school uniform before he headed down for breakfast. The hotel offered a buffet, and he loaded a plate with warm food and grabbed a glass of orange juice.

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><p>He took a taxi to the library where he had to spend more than a good few minutes acclimating himself with the electronic search system to find out what he wanted. That of course after working out how to use the computer. Superman and history were the key words in his search phrase. There were more than 1,000 results. He sifted through the titles, and narrowed down the best sounding. He couldn't check anything out, but he had the names of books to search out.<p>

Several blocks from the library, Harry went into a multi-story Barnes and Noble. Filtering through the labeled sections, he found History on the second floor.

Harry glanced at the register as the clerk rang up the five books he'd decided on. The card was produced once more, and he slid it through a little more naturally.

He walked to a café for lunch, picking out the thickest of the lot from the bookstore as he settled into a booth. From his experience that usually meant it had the best information. He flipped through everything before he bought them enough to realize that this Superman while not normal was Normal to muggles. A, hero. And there were a lot of other heroes. The book highlighted world events and superheroes roles in world history. It was as thick one of his text books and was actually written as a text book according to the preface. He flipped past chapters at the start about a Justice Society during the Second World War and used the index to find the first mention of Superman. Harry read about Superman first showing up in Metropolis over _twenty_ years ago and had admitted he was a real alien. Continuing he read about a group called the Justice League that other heroes had formed, similar to the Justice Society from decades past. Harry skimmed the chapters in increasing disbelief. If he hadn't seen the man for himself, he would have thought he was reading fiction instead of a scholarly work.

Harry decided to finish going over everything in his room and shoved the book back in the bag with the rest. It was all a little fantastical. Though compared to the parallel society of the Wizarding World it wasn't that hard to believe. His relatives had never allowed him to watch television growing up, read the paper, listen to the radio or do pretty much anything normal people did. While he did all of that in small doses without permission, he'd never seen or heard about anything like this. He was isolated in his childhood and when he might have started going off on his own enough to learn the truth he started Hogwarts. A place that was equally isolated from the Muggle world. This super hero business wasn't normal, it was everything the Durselys' hated in fact. They had kept him from so many other unnatural things, something everyone else on the planet knew about had just managed to be tossed in as well.

* * *

><p>Harry stopped at several other stores along the streets as he walked along the shopping district, not purchasing in bulk, but what he liked to avoid wearing his school uniform to death. He hailed a cab after leaving a shoe store and was back to his room as the sun began to set.<p>

Harry opened his door, his arms and hands full of bags of books, shoes and clothes. After he'd put his burdens down on the bed he went to the closet to check that his trunk hadn't been moved or opened. He relaxed seeing it where he left, visibly undisturbed.

The bag of books he purchased he dug out of the pile first, stacking them onto the top of the desk. He moved from one bag to the next, taking the shoe boxes and stacking them inside the closet around his trunk. He'd bought a few sleeping things, sweat pants and the like at one store and set them inside the chest of drawers refolded. Other random shirts, jeans, and socks went one way or the other on his bed, folded into a contained mess as he stuffed one empty plastic bag into another. The lot was finally sorted and the new socks and under pants went into one drawer near the top. He'd have to wash most things out, before wearing them. He remembered Aunt Petunia doing that when ever she bought something new. Then he realized he needed laundry detergent and probably coins of some sort. There were facilities inside the hotel, he was half sure he'd read, inside that packet.

Everything that crossed his sight as he dug through the slightly-larger-on-the-inside-than-the-outside trunk that wasn't a Weasley sweater, Dobby's socks, or a Hogwarts uniform, went inside one of the plastic bags. Every last stitch of old clothing belonging to Dudley was tossed in one fell swoop; it felt like an exorcism of sorts.

If he wasn't sure an owl would hone in on him, reprimanding his underage use of magic, he would have seriously considered setting it all on fire on the balcony. He put it by the door instead, resolving instead to just donate it or something less pyromania-oriented if he couldn't figure out where the nearest dumpster was by morning.

He fiddled with the radio clock, finding a station that didn't sound to terrible and grabbed the book he had started reading during lunch. He started at the beginning this time, resolving not to skip lest he not be able to make sense of anything.

* * *

><p>Harry woke stiffly, his arm and back creaking as he stretched out. He'd fallen asleep, and the sun was starting to beat in through the window. The radio was still playing softly and he turned to glance over at it. Reading the red lights to be six fifty-four after he adjusted his glasses he rolled back over and thought about trying to sleep some more.<p>

He was still here. Two days in a row. That was setting a personal record for time on his own. He grinned, running a hand through his hair. Harry rolled out of bed, thoughts of lounging in shed and walked to the bathroom. Stripping of his bed clothes and leaving them in a pile inside, he took a fast shower.

He considered his new clothes after he got out, and grabbed a pair of brown pants and a dark blue shirt. With his new brown loafers slid on, went to get breakfast.

Harry took the elevator, his hair seeming to dry impossibly fast; being messy no matter if he had even tried to flatten it he hadn't bothered more than to run a brush through a few times.

He showed his room card to enter the dining area, and tucked it into his pants pocket. The choices weren't to terrible and it was a bit more crowded than he would have preferred. Harry grabbed a tray, utensils, a glass and plate and went along the line. He filled his glass with orange juice, and grabbed one of the milk cartons as well. Eggs, bacon and toast were scooped onto his plate, and he ate quickly. It was decent, but nothing could ever measure up to a Hogwarts meal in his mind, even something as simple as breakfast. He'd been ruined by the house-elves, positively ruined.

Harry made his way back up to his room, after going back for a second serving of bacon. He was so used to sharing his with Hedwig, he'd grown used to eating it for breakfast in larger quantities. He would have to make this up to her; owl treats, eye scratches. She always forgave him when he slighted her, eventually. He flexed his fingers in memory as he punched the elevator for his floor, and considered when she wasn't happy with him. She poked with the best of them.

He departed the elevator on his floor, and entered his room. His passport, guaranteed to keep most Muggle questions to a minimum, he had decided to keep with him at all times. That and his check book with both muggle cards, hotel and money, tucked into his new wallet went inside the back pack. The book he had been reading went in as well. Harry slid the straps of the bag on after zipping it up and he looked around to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. The bags of Dudley's clothing by the door stared up at him and he grabbed them, pulling them out with him as he closed the door.

**TBC**


	4. Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Harry dragged the bags with him onto the elevator, depressing the button for the ground floor. The new morning hadn't made him any fonder of the overly used and over-stretched cast-offs.

"Excuse me. Is there a dumpster nearby?" Harry asked a passing uniformed worker after he exited.

"I'll take care of that for you." The man answered.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." Harry let go of the bags with a nod, glad to be rid of them.

* * *

><p>Harry was seated at a raised table and had ordered a cup of tea and a snack. He'd finally set out from the hotel, intent on sitting down to focus on the book he'd brought with him. He'd decided to stop beforehand to fortify himself for such an excursion at what turned out to be rush hour for the café he'd chosen. He'd grabbed one of the few tables left outside and didn't have to wait overlong to be served. The tea wasn't that bad, a flavored almond something or other that was recommended by the waitress after he discovered they didn't have Earl Grey in stock.<p>

The newspaper he'd purchased at a corner stand was the first one that wasn't a Daily Prophet he'd ever bought himself. It was the Daily Planet instead with information on the world at large and if there was bias or ludicrousness in it's pages he hadn't found it yet. He'd let his tea steep a bit more, pouring a bit of milk and sugar in as well to sweeten it a bit as he ate a muffin absently, the paper spread out in his lap.

Something jostled his table drawing him out of his reserve and the cup of tea he was absent mindedly reaching for splashed.

She was tall, blonde and blue-eyed. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him from where she'd braced herself against his table, and he thought he'd never quite seen that shade before he looked back down at the puddle from his spilt tea.

"I'm so sorry. I just, didn't see where I was going," She spoke her voice anxious as she wiped at her own coffee container.

"It's alright," Harry assured, looking up once more from setting his paper down to gather napkins.

"Let me at least buy you another to make up for spilling it." She offered looking flustered.

"Really, it's okay." He shook his head, finishing dabbing at the countertop.

"I insist."

"I'm fine. It's not that much gone, really." Harry smiled, gathering up the dirtied napkins. She returned his smile as she finished straightening herself up after seeing he was alright.

"It is pretty crowded in here." Harry smiled playfully. "You can sit down here, there isn't anywhere else open actually. Keep me company and we'll call it even."

She made a brief show of looking around before looking back at him. He grinned confidently and she eyed him before setting her own coffee and newspaper down.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter." He held his hand out, eyeing her for any signs of recognition. He found none, and his own smile grew slightly.

"Kara Kent." She shook his hand with a surprisingly firm grip.

"Vacation or do you live here?" She asked, settling into the chair opposite him.

"Tourist. I'm on holiday from boarding school. Just started actually. Seems a lovely city. Very, bright. And you?" Harry asked, sitting straighter up in his chair now that she was sitting with him.

"I'm new to the city, but it's my home now." She replied.

He spoke, "I arrived in Metropolis two days ago. I'd never really heard much about it, but there seems to be plenty to do."

Harry couldn't believe he was actually going on like he was. Beyond the kiss with Cho, he hadn't exactly, interacted with girls who weren't solidly in the 'friend' mode of his mind. The odds that a girl who had no idea who he _was_ being interested in him to even just be friendly talking he would have considered abysmally low. He looked up briefly to be sure nothing supernatural was coming.

"What?" Kara frowned slightly as the black haired boy tilted his head back.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry." He blushed, bringing his attention back.

"What is it like in boarding school? Boring?" She asked, genuinely wondering as she'd never been to one before herself here on Earth or on Krypton.

"Well. It's a very, traditional school, old-fashioned values. We aren't allowed televisions or phones, let alone computers. But, we do other things. We are allowed radios, but the receptions bad in the valley. We play sports. Card games. I guess that does sound boring." He added after he saw the look on her face.

"Oh. No, I just, can't imagine not having technology." She bit her lip. The technology on Earth was far behind Kryptons in every day life. It was difficult for her to adjust to it already, having access to _none_ wasn't something she had even imagined.

"No electricity either…" Harry went on, in a slightly ominous tone, his eyes playfully smiling slightly at her now bulging eyes. "We have oil and gas power for the lights. That's the easiest way to keep us focused on our studies I guess. Radios run off of charges."

"Wow. I don't know how you haven't gone Lord of the Flies." She off handedly mused. That had been one of her 'required readings' while she was on lockdown in the Fortress.

He laughed, loudly. His limited Muggle education allowed him to understand her reference. She covered her mouth in mortification.

"It isn't that bad. I actually like it. We aren't completely cut off, there's the post nearly every day, and a village outside of the gates. Just a couple of miles to town. Upper years are allowed out every Saturday when we enter our third year. The village has really cool shops that cater to students."

"Why'd your parents decide to move here? Work?" Harry asked a question himself, taking another sip of tea.

"My parents are dead. I live with my cousin." She fiddled slightly with her napkin. "He's older, and married."

"I'm sorry," He said softly. "I didn't meant to upset you, my parents are gone as well." His heart beat didn't change and she knew he was telling the truth.

"I'm," She started to say, looking both surprised and saddened.

"Sorry. There's nothing else to say I guess when people hear that, is there?" He smiled at her gently.

"No. Not really." Kara agreed, running a hand through her hair to pull it back behind her ear.

"I live with my Aunt a few weeks a year when I'm not in school. Then I escape to a friend's, to here now. I have a cousin as well, we're the same age."

"Clark's been good to me. He's a little over protective though. I guess we should talk about something more cheerful."

"Okay Kara Kent. What do you like to do for fun? Now, take into account that in addition to being in another country, I don't keep up with television and recently released movies, I have only a limited grasp of video games, and will have no idea about some of your culture." She wanted to laugh, beaming instead at his words. Here was the only other teenager on the planet who she'd met who could almost relate to how out of place she was and _she_ had to pretend to be the normal one.

"Well. I like shopping and reading. And, I like games." She listed, confident in that at least that those were all normal activities. Clark had grilled her on social small talk before cutting her loose from quarantine. The Amazon past times of jousting, horse racing, and other activities from days gone by she'd learnt to enjoy in her short time on Themyscira would have probably made her sound a little crazy.

"I play a mean hand of go-fish." Harry informed her as he picked up his tea. They both smiled over their drinks.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Five**

* * *

><p>He'd been faintly surprised when she'd suggested going to the movies. She was killing time before her cousin was off-work apparently. If the Death Eaters' had a convincing enough actress on staff to lead him to his death, well…he could live with being led. She was an utter Muggle, of that he was sure, with not a drop of magic in her veins. Harry had no real plans, only vague notions of things to be done, and places to go in the city. All of which had been provided so helpfully by brochures in the hotel. And so he agreed to his even greater surprise. He was admittedly rash at times and this was a great deal rasher than his usual, going off with a complete stranger.<p>

It was a somewhat short walk three blocks over to the theater she had in mind. They talked of random things along the way, places she recommended him seeing before he left, where she'd been herself.

"Let's see, Comedy, Horror, Drama," Harry trailed off, staring up at the listing screen. "You pick." He offered turning back to her. He'd never actually been to the theater, so this was one for his bucket list. "I'm up for anything really. I don't know what's good out anyhow."

"I could make you see a complete chick flick you know, you offered." She eyed him in challenging amusement.

"I've never seen one, but my friend Dean tells me I should fear them." Harry made a show of pausing in consideration at a poster with a bright-pink background. "Scary."

She laughed at his expression, dragging him into line by the arm. "I'm not that cruel. Come on England, Comedy."

Harry enjoyed his first large screen movie experience, complete with overpriced popcorn and candy.

"I haven't seen anything like that before." Harry finally stopped laughing after they'd left. "A good choice. Thank you."

"I don't have to meet Clark yet. We can, get another coffee first. If you want?" Kara offered after she checked her watch.

"Sure. " Harry smiled. It didn't sound like a bad way to spend his third day in the city.

* * *

><p>"What made you decide to come to Metropolis?" Kara changed the subject for him from discussing school courses. He'd converted nearly all of them to what he guessed were normal ones. Potions was exchanged with Chemistry easily enough. And he had enough experience in the Muggle world before going to Hogwarts to be able to tell her that he still had English classes, and his woes about turning in seven to ten page assignments were no lies, just not for that class. History was easily changed up a bit by leaving out magic and complaining about a teacher who was 'duller than the dead.' He'd not been ashamed to admit he caught up on his mid-day naps more often than he should in that class. By the end, the only class he hadn't reinvented was Astronomy. Her own sounded completely normal, math, science and so on.<p>

"The only foreign language I know a bit of is Latin." Harry quipped back. "So…Canada, Australia, or the United States off of the top of my head. The US had more flights leaving sooner."

"Latin's a dead language." Kara's eyebrows rose in memory, she was pretty sure of that.

"It's optional at my school. French, Spanish are as well. My friend Hermione learnt those for 'fun'." He shuddered to show his idea of that concept. "And some Bulgarian when our school had a competition with theirs and she dated one of their contestants. He had trouble with English and they mutually bounced off each other."

"Must be pretty smart." Her eyebrows rose. That was fairly smart, by human standards.

"She's bloody brilliant." Harry agreed.

"The way you talk about her, do you like her?" She asked glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze down and pretended to study her cup's contents.

"I could see myself being happy, with her. But, right now, we're very good friends. Closer than friends. She's like a sister to me. She believes in me. I'd do anything for her. And, I don't know who I'd be without her."

"You're very lucky. To have someone you care that much about."

"I am. I think you'd like her."

"She does sound amazing."

"She is. What about you?"

"No one really. I've made a few friends but they live out of town, and most of them are girls." She blushed. "So you really just picked a flight here? Randomly?"

"Yeah. It seemed a good idea at the time." He nodded, realizing how odd that must sound.

"How very adventurous of you."

"Yeah. That's one way to phrase it." Laughing Harry ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally making it messier than it already was.

* * *

><p>They'd finished up their drinks and were walking casually back towards the area of town the café they'd met at had been in.<p>

"Clark's a little…overprotective. I thought he'd get a wedgie he was so upset about me hanging out with you. I've stayed on the farm with Aunt Martha and Uncle John, and a bit with Clark here in Metropolis. One of his friends looked after me for a while too. Now that I'm back, and school's not in session, he's all 'I know best'." Her nose scrunched in irritation.

"You're very lucky to have a relative who's concerned about you. I mean. If I had a female cousin, I'd be a bit tight ended about her hanging out with a boy who could be a complete and total nutcase. After all, it's not like we met at school where it could be confirmed if I had psychotic tendencies in a normal social setting." He grinned softly.

"I know. I'm really grateful to him for looking out for me, but I wish he would trust me a little more. I mean, I'm not an idiot. If you pull a move on me I'll kick your ass. I don't need him practically Flying Over Head Watching." Harry wondered why she said that the way she emphasized it, but brushed it off as her irritation. If he'd been back home, he would have naturally looked up in concern. But this was Metropolis. And this girl was normal. "Not that I think you're a bad guy."

"Gee. Thanks." Harry grinned back. She looked a great deal more relaxed when she looked back at him, and looped her arm through his.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Six**

Harry eyed the specimen critically. It looked a little too close to a magical one at first, before he realized that there was no spotted and furred growth on the leaves. So he didn't have to worry about it putting him to sleep if he stepped closer. And he was in a Muggle garden after all. Where on earth a Tastasized Tansy would manage to have the necessary care to stay alive and this healthy…he shook his head feeling silly.

"My friend Neville's really into plants. He has some very unusual ones. His grandmother let him install a greenhouse this summer because of his good marks. He's probably elbow deep in dirt as we speak." Harry noted as they walked on. August Longbottom wasn't just proud of Neville's academic achievement, but also that he had persevered during the Battle at the Ministry. Neville had been more than embarrassed to admit it, before they left for the summer. Everyone else's parents had been less forgiving. Mrs. Weasley was overwrought with alarm and outrage. Luna's dad was beside himself at his only daughter having been in danger according to the Quibbler's series of articles on Death Eaters having no respect for the lives of children. And Hermione…the normally authority respectful witch was keeping tight-lipped if her parents even knew anything bad was happening at all, let alone their latest catastrophic foray.

"A friend of mine likes plants too. She keeps a garden. It's really amazing." Kara smiled as she bent over to smell a large purple gathered flower.

"We're required to take Horticulture class every year, year round. It's not that bad. We take care of some of the greenhouses that help feed the school during the winter. Some are ornamental, others functional. And a few others have plants that have medicinal properties that the school raises for research purposes. It's usually the upper years that take care of the more valuable ones."

Harry had walked her back to the cafe the day before where she had made initial plans to meet her cousin later in the day. Kara had offered to show him a few places around the city on foot, those that she considered interesting as a fellow newcomer. The following day the best places to shop had been her highlights after they'd met at the same location. They had wandered into an enclosed garden park somehow along the way.

They continued walking until they were through to the center of the garden, and followed the opposite pathway out until they emerged onto the other side. They meandered for a good while longer, settling into a comfortable communion of talking further about friends and school.

* * *

><p>"I saw you. Again." Kara spoke into the phone, after she was behind the closed door of the apartment. "You didn't need to check in on me."<p>

"Kara." Clark sighed on his end. "I'm just, worried about you." That had been his defense the night before, a simple check-in. She'd been willing to forgive it after he'd apologized. She'd been silly enough to assume he wouldn't do it again.

"You said you trusted me." The girl of steel ground out.

"I do. I was just, flying by." He really was a terrible liar she thought, stalking to her bedroom. She couldn't actually stalk or stomp or she'd bring the complex down. Which made her even more frustrated.

"Yeah. Right." She flipped the phone off cutting the conversation short. She changed into her uniform at super speed, taking off out of the apartment in a blur of motion.

* * *

><p>"Diana, please, please talk to him. He's doing fly-bys on me." The teenager vented as soon as she came within sight of Wonder Woman. It hadn't been hard to find her. She'd called the Justice League for Diana's general location, patrolling over the capital, and had used super hearing to zero in on her.<p>

"Why?" The Amazon asked in confusion as she pulled up short in her flight. She'd guessed the who from the girl's tone of frustration. And correctly from the young girls following words.

"I'm hanging out with someone. We've only been out a couple of times, twice on an actual planned time, but Kal showed up, above, again. Harry hasn't noticed yet thank god because it might seem a little strange to have Superman frowning down at him." Supergirl sighed in annoyance.

"I will talk to him." The Amazon finally said in amusement. "I'm surprised we haven't had to deal with this yet. He is very protective of you. But he should respect your privacy."

"Now." Wonder Woman turned serious. "Tell me about, Harry?"

Kara mentally groaned at the double-edged action of seeking Diana out. Out of the two alternate parental figures in her life on Earth, one was _sure_ to find out every single thing about Harry and invade her personal life even more. Diana at least would eventually recognize her boundaries, she hoped. Batman well, she was sure he laughed inside his head about the idea of boundaries as he attached yet another spy gadget to monitor someone.

* * *

><p>Harry eased back into his hotel room, kicking off his sneakers by the closet door and flopping onto the bed with a tired smile. They'd walked half of Metropolis over, he was sure. He was used to walking across Hogwarts' vast lengths fortunately or he'd be considerably worse for the wear. He had sorted his clothes out the night before; Laundry services were included in his billing so he didn't have to hunt down a Laundromat. They were all cleaned and returned to him while he was out today. They were either folded in neat little bundles in baskets on top of the dresser or were hanging in the closet.<p>

The books on the history of superheroes were stacked inside his trunk, only the thick behemoth staying out as his comprehensive guide to the modern super hero and super villain filled Muggle world. The rest of the lot hadn't held much helpful information from his overview and what they did was repeated in the text.

As the sun died, he flipped the television on for noise and settled down at the edge of the bed to unwind.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Harry starred at the phone by his bedside when he woke. The time difference had been a little confusing to him, but he was pretty sure it was the opposite time of the day back home.

He sighed, wiped at his eyes, and then swallowed the bullet.

"Hello?" A familiar female voice answered after several long rings.

"Hey." He said simply.

"_Harry_! Where _are_ you! Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Really." Harry shrank back into his pillow at the sound of her worried voice. "Didn't you get my letter?"

"Really? You really thought I'd be fine with a _letter_?" Hermione's voice pitched in disbelief.

"Hermione. Please. I just wanted to get away for a while."

"Are you coming back?"

"Of course. I'll be back for the train before school starts. I promise. I just, wanted a real vacation. One with no one trying to kill me. Without being stuck in Grimmauld."

"I just, it isn't safe on your own."

"I'm doing alright. Dumbledore hasn't found me, so I'm not that nervous about Voldemort showing up for afternoon tea. I'm safe. I'm, actually having a good time. I know you're mad at me, and the Order's probably beyond pissed. I just wanted to talk to you, to let you know that I'm not going after Voldemort or anything that insane right now. I'm just, taking a vacation."

"Will you tell me where you are?"

"No, I'd best not."

"Fine." She sighed. "Everyone's been completely mental looking for you."

"I did write a letter." He wasn't that contrite at that.

"_Harry_." She stressed his name again.

"Yeah. I know. I'm not that sorry honestly. I've been sight-seeing. Sleeping in. No cleaning. I just…I _needed_ this. Can you understand that?"

"Yes. I don't really agree with you not giving me some kind of notice-"

"I thought you would tell Dumbledore-" Harry defended himself instantly.

"You should know me better than that." She didn't quite snap, she sounded exasperated more than anything.

Harry huffed. "You didn't write me last year when he told you not to."

"I learnt my lesson on that. I thought I was protecting you."

"I don't need that kind of protecting"

She sighed into the phone. "I already promised I wouldn't do that again. Do you really think I'm such a-a goody two shoes I would rat you out if you _weren't_ going off to do something dangerous on your own?"

"I…I just. I needed to not have to justify myself."

"Harry…I may not get what you're going through, but I _get_ it." Her voice was softer now.

"I'm sorry. Just to you." He finally answered her.

"That's something at least." Her voice pitched in banal satisfaction.

"How's Hedwig?" Harry asked to fill the silence.

"She's adjusting. She's been missing you terribly though. Dumbledore keeps trying to get her to take you a letter, she won't."

"That's my girl." He grinned at the mental image of his snowy rebuffing the colorfully robed Headmaster.

"I'm staying with my parents, since you're not at Headquarters, and it's such a tinderbox there now with you gone. They're planning a few vacations. I think Mum wants to go to the beach before the summer's over."

"Sounds fun. You should spend time with your parents. We get you nine months of the year, and more."

"I do miss them. It will be, I just have to put her off long enough for my wound to finish healing." Awkwardness entered the conversation again. "What have you been up to exactly?" Hermione's voice rose a pitch, clearly trying to cut that train of thought off.

"I've, actually met a girl. We've been hanging out. A Muggle, so don't worry. Smart like you."

"Pretty?" She had a tone in her voice, both amused and something else.

"Yeah." He admits. "She's just moved to the city, and doesn't know anyone. It's nothing like it was with Cho."

"Don't do anything rash Harry."

"I won't do anything to put her in danger. She's really, amazing. I wish I'd met her, after this mess was over."

Harry went on to talk about what he'd done, telling her about the different stores he'd seen in just the walking distance he'd covered. Hermione was used to the city, but his world was Privet Drive and Hogwarts. He'd barely been in London to shop for Diagon Alley and to go to Grimmauld and the Ministry hearing. She let him talk for a while, listening to the normal things he'd done in the short amount of time he'd been in the city.

She was thrown for the loop when he confessed to being ignorant of superheroes, and had said that she just never thought to talk about them. They both were unsure about how much the Wizarding World knew about the caped phenomenon, and Hermione ventured hesitantly that she was sure Dumbledore would know. Because they were both underage, they weren't allowed to join the Order. So neither could guess as to whether or not the Order would seek help with Voldemort from outside of their community, or if it already had.

"You really had me worried you know." She reminded him gently as the conversation ended.

"I'm sorry I made you worry."

"You promise, you'll be back for the train? And you'll stay safe? No running into danger without me."

"I promise."

"And, you'll call me, at least every three days. If you don't I will have this number traced." Harry felt his heart drop. He stared at the phone cradled in his hand briefly in shock. That had never occurred to him. She had his location at her fingertips.

"'Mione."

"No ''Mione' about that. I won't tell Dumbledore about you calling, and you won't miss one of our check-ins. Deal?"

"Yeah. Deal."

"Really Harry. If you're going to run away again, try to at least shield the calling number from the party on the other end."

"You're a little scary sometimes."

"One of us has to be. Bye Harry."

"Bye."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Eight**

Harry's feet pounded rhythmically against the sidewalk. It wasn't like running the Quidditch Pitch or around Hogwarts' grounds for training. His conversation with Hermione had eased his mind somewhat. For the rest, running until he dropped was always a good way to put off too deep thinking. Oliver Wood had maintained a frantic training schedule, picked up by Angelina after his departure. He might have been banned from Quidditch, but he hadn't slacked off running on his own afterwards. He was used to being active. This was familiar, even if the setting wasn't.

So he banished his lingering worries of discovery and the giant weight that had been on his mind and in his heart for the past few weeks, all were forced out for now.

Cooling down on his return, Harry returned to his room.

* * *

><p>He packed his bag after showering, making sure to check for his wallet and room key before leaving the hotel.<p>

Harry traveled streets he'd been down already, feeling slightly more comfortable guiding himself in the blocks around the hotel. He meandered through the increasing foot and street traffic, going in to a few stores to browse. Glancing into a store window, he saw it was filled with tourist trinkets. One in particular caught his eye.

After he left the shop, Harry removed from the bag a hat. He smoothed it over his head, smiling slightly. Metropolis Sharks fan gear. He checked his reflection, reassuring himself that his scar was covered in the glass pane.

He returned to the park he'd run in that morning and stretched out in the shade killing several hours reading. Food vendors lined the sidewalks at random intervals so he didn't have to leave for lunch. The Jules Verne Extraterrestrial museum took up most of his afternoon. It held a host of alien artifacts, displays and information on different species.

Harry had always known just how _odd_ writing on parchment was in the twenty first century to people not familiar with the Wizarding World. He'd come to accept it, and didn't think how inconvenient it was to dip a quill that often now. At a stationary store he procured a few pens and a blank journal to take notes in. It was probably the wizard in him that was attracted to only the leather bound books. He stuffed his purchases into his backpack to free his hands.

Dusk began settling, and Harry's feet led him to turn around reluctantly.

"Help!" A cry rang out in the distance.

Harry looked up in an instant, his body alert as he glanced around. The sound of a scuffle was breaking out up the street. He broke into a dead run, clearing the distance with a steady stride. His bag fell from his shoulder somewhere near the mouth of the alley.

His punch landed in the side of the mans' face as he pulled the knife arm back towards him.

"Go!" Harry called over his shoulder to the female blur he'd registered as he rammed the man into the brick wall.

The man was taller than him by at least a foot and likely physically stronger. This daunting realization was reinforced as he wrenched free of Harry's hold, punching at his stomach. He twisted so the blow didn't connect with as much force as it was meant to. It clipped his side, sending him barreled over.

Harry gasped, withdrawing back to the side against the brick wall to his back. In alarm he grabbed at the knife hand cutting towards him with one hand. He forced the blade away from his body. His own knee drew up in reflex. He put his free arm over the robber's shoulder, drawing him into a parody of a hug to drive the knee in deeper. The man grunted in pain, snarling at him.

He jerked the knife away, cutting at his hand, and tossed it down the alley. In his anger Harry barely registered the punch to his head or his freely bleeding hand as he threw back a blow in retaliation. A satisfying crunch reached his ears. Another hit fell to his side, on top of the same spot. If he hadn't a little experience fighting against opponents that were bigger than him, Harry would have let himself be cornered. Instead he slipped out, striking out to force the man to back up, again twice more and they had almost changed positions further into the alley.

Another punch, and the man crumpled and on cautious inspection, looked unconscious. Disbelieving Harry poked his toe to one of the man's boot to make sure. And again, harder.

"What a jerk." Harry muttered as he ripped his shirt's sleeve off to wrap his hand. Tightening the bandage he winced. He leaned against the bricks, catching his breath as he sat in what he was sure was a filthy spot of cement. Nothing felt broken. Nothing was poking out that shouldn't be. That was good. He picked up and replaced his hat.

Sirens echoed in the distance, close enough to alarm him. No one had ventured to see what was happening. He guessed that woman had called them or the sounds of the fight had carried to people nearby.

The police were approaching, definitely now. Harry hesitated a moment after grabbing his bag before he made the decision to jog further down the alley. He swung up to a ladder after a small leap climbing it quickly. He was on the roof before the flashlights followed him down the alley.

* * *

><p>He'd force himself to walk calmly to his room, his bag covering his injured hand. It had ached with the effort, but no one had stopped him or noticed him much.<p>

Harry eyed the bruise on his chin in the bathroom and scowled. No easy way to explain any of it. He turned to his trunk and began digging inside for his emergency kit. With all the blows in Quidditch and generally his life, he had begun stock piling some supplies on his trips to Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. He poured a cleaning solution over his hand in the sink, wincing at it's sting. A roll of gauze wound round it after he spread a bit of Dittany over the cut. Hermione had found out about Dittany after researching healing remedies for the scars on his hand. She declared it a little more effective than Essence of Murtlap. Only a little because it didn't numb, only healed. The two couldn't be used together or they'd cancel one another out. He found a jar of the Bruise Healing paste the twins manufactured and smoothed it above his eye and chin. Another more liberal amount went over his ribs. He'd have to let it sit and then he'd be more or less visibly fine by morning.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Nine**

Superman had stopped yet another catastrophe, this one not involving a robot but a collapsed dam. That story covered the front page of the Sunday edition of the _Daily Planet_. What he was reading for today he found as a blurb on page 5. It had been dark enough that only a vague description of the 'good citizen' was given. The mugger was a repeat offender, with a short string of past charges after his name.

Harry after reading of his exploit massaged his forehead. He'd picked up the newspaper from a small stack of them available for guests. He'd slept in past eight as reward for his good deed, and as a necessity for his aching ribs and head. There was more of a crowd in the buffet area when he'd arrived, thinned out as it was now near closing. Despite his optimistic outlook the night before, magic hadn't been entirely worked on his hand. It hurt more than it looked angry though and he considered morbidly it was the feeling of his skin regenerating.

He was wearing a long sleeved shirt again; it's to-long sleeves rolled down so that his injured hand was covered to casual glances. The shirt was cotton at least so he didn't look too odd. The bruises from his face were gone at least and the dittany had healed over the scrapes to look several days old. On his chin it almost looked like he'd nicked himself shaving, if he shaved. And if he was sloppy at that. And while his temple wasn't so easily camouflaged, he brushed his hair down as best he could. It was almost as long as he'd kept it fourth year. If he didn't need a veil over his forehead he'd keep it closer shorn. He had to concentrate to control his unconscious habit of pushing it back, but was satisfied it was enough for inside the hotel.

It was hot enough outside that he felt wary of venturing out, and with his hand it would probably be safer not to. He was relieved that his new acquaintance was spending the weekend with her cousin. Explaining away rapidly healing old wounds to someone who'd seen him quite recently was just to much of a headache to contemplate.

* * *

><p>Harry knelt inside the closet sighing. It's light barely illuminated his trunk's contents. He didn't feel like dragging it back out into better lighting so he squinted into it's depths as he rummaged through. Something tumbled in the distance ominously just as he found what he was looking for.<p>

He'd prefer finishing the superhero text, but _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Uses Against the Dark Arts _Volume 4 was withdrawn from his Defense stack and carried to the desk once he had his trunk sorted and closed. He needed to keep spells fresh in his mind, or he'd have to rely on fallbacks like _Stupefy_ and _Expelliarmus_. Ever how useful they both were, dueling the Death Eaters in the Ministry had highlighted a whole new level of fighting for him. He and his friends had barely survived…and Sirius hadn't. He had a sickening feeling that fights like _that_ were only going to become more common and he needed to be prepared. Dueling was half reflexive casting, instant decisions. He didn't have Hermione's near eidetic recall, and that could hurt him or someone else.

Daytime television was just as bad as he he'd heard Petunia complaining about. Or else he just didn't know where to find the good channels. He comforted himself that the second was probably true as he settled on a news station. He could never admit Petunia was right about something of course.

The journal he'd bought the day before was still in his bag where he'd left it last night. He withdrew it and one of the packaged pens. Harry pitched the packaging into the trash. Last he hung the Do Not Disturb sign on his door.

The mess from cleaning himself up last night he couldn't leave for the maid service. He'd have to dispose of it outside of the hotel. He'd had enough sense to have already wrung the blood out of the wash clothes fortunately.

Easing the journals spine as he sat down, he resolved to spend the day writing down useful spells from his books into it.

* * *

><p>Two titans were facing off. It had been inevitable, with both parties tempers building over the past few days. Now that they were under one roof they had only just managed <em>not<em> exploding until halfway through breakfast.

"We're _just_ friends." She ground out, her jaw of steel jutting out defiantly.

"We don't know anything about him, and you won't even tell me his last name. Can't you see where I might be a little-" The man known to the world at large as Superman leant forward on his elbows, his hands spread out in an appeal to reason.

"Gee. _Maybe_ I'm not telling you his last name so you don't run a background check on him!" She'd barely escaped Diana without giving up too much information. The Amazon warrior had reeled in her concerns somewhat after Kara had explicitly stated that no, there was no way they could have met by him scheming.

"People like us, we have to be _careful. _It's not like I _want _him to be someone other than he appears, but you have to consider the possibility. It's for your _safety_-" Kara sank her forehead against the palm of her hand as he redelivered his exact same argument for the fifteenth time. He didn't seem to register any of her rebuttals or protests.

"You are so _**paranoid**_!" Her arms thrown in the air, a faint whirlwind nearly unsettled the pictures on the wall. Lois rubbed her temple. She had been for the last five minutes, her eyes closed as she took in their exchange silently.

"Why don't you invite him over for dinner?" Lois suggested to break down the tension. "That way Clark can see what kind of guy he is for himself and we'll put this to rest." They both turned to stare at her, clearly having forgotten her until she spoke.

"We _are_ just friends." Kara wasn't snapping in response, nearly pleading instead.

"Kara. We'd still like to get to know your friend. Casual, not a hardcore interrogation." She'd be lying if she said _no_ interrogation.

"Promise?" She asked her cousin-in-law hesitantly.

"Promise." Lois bobbed her head dutifully and turned to eye her husband with enough force to make him agree as well. His face was still reluctant, but the apartment would survive at least.

"Wednesday. Seven." Clark breathed out bowing his head to his plate and Kara relaxed as well. They both settled back to their meal, carefully avoiding such dangerous waters again for now.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Ten**

Falling on purpose was something Harry had never attempted. Plotting to do so was proving bothersome as he had to time it in front of someone. He had an entire act put together to make it hopefully convincing. In the end, he just tripped.

Kara was down the street, waving as she caught sight of him. As he waved in return a furniture delivery cart cut in front of him. To avoid his toes being squashed Harry stumbled back. A wayward fire hydrant that he was quite sure materialized from the ether appeared behind him in that moment. His hands flew in front of him to find purchase and steady himself as he fell on his side. He pushed his hand roughly against the pavement's edge to cut and widen the supernaturally healed wound as he stood.

"Harry!" Kara hurried forward through the crowd as he glanced down to make sure it was wide enough.

"I'm fine, it's not that bad."

Her face was creased in worry as she reached him. "You're bleeding."

"Just needs a band-aid. Maybe a big one." He answered as he held napkins offered by an adjacent food stand owner to his palm. He nodded his thanks, turning back to Kara he pointed with his shoulder at a corner store.

"I'll just be a minute."

* * *

><p>"You hit me."<p>

"That's kind of the point." Harry held his aim steady as he advanced searching for his target.

"I-…yeah." The space carried her words in all directions, confusing her location once more.

"Did you think I had bad aim?"

"I thought I was better at dodging actually." Was her dry response.

"So did I." Harry held his hands up as his chest plate lit up in a final blare of red. "Well. I'm dead."

Kara emerged from on top of a stack of boxes almost out of his line of sight. She sported a triumphant smile as she hoisted the laser gun against her shoulder. "You're not going to cry because I didn't let you win are you?"

Harry shook his head with an amused expression as she descended down the course. "I probably shouldn't have worn khakis." He'd worn a lightweight blue dress shirt that he'd covered with the jacket he kept in his bag for freezing air-conditioned places like the local library. That had saved him wholesale slaughter at least in the five rounds they'd gone.

"Kind of a bad choice." Her own T-shirt had not a trace of any color besides black and her jeans were a deep navy almost indistinguishable from black inside the arena.

"Well. Now that you've killed me, what do you say to letting me revive with some food?"

"I could eat."

* * *

><p>They were walking back to where they'd met up, when Kara spoke up suddenly, "Oh, Harry. My cousin and his wife, they wanted me to ask you to come to dinner on Wednesday."<p>

"That's kind of them." Harry wondered for a moment before answering if that was too dangerous. But really it was no more dangerous than what he'd already done, meeting up with Kara the past week. No one had attacked him or even recognized him so far. Kara's family were probably as normal as she was.

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

"Why would you." She shook her head, lighting up the twilight with her smile.

"What time?"

"Seven."

* * *

><p>Harry stared at the pin pad in confusion. PIN? What could his PIN be? He wasn't such a dunderhead to wonder what it was. He hadn't needed one so far and the Goblin hadn't mentioned anything about it. Harry tried his birth year, and closed his eyes in frustration. Nope. Way to easy.<p>

What other number could possibly be connected to him? It said four digits but…he frowned at the device as his fingers depressed 687. The screen changed and he breathed out heavily. He needed cash, there was only so far he could get with checks and the plastic card even in a city.

Nonplussed Harry took the card back and folded the stack of bills that whirred out of another slot. He was detaching his receipt from the dispenser when a bang rang out with several more in succession.

His bag opened already to replace his wallet, Harry stuffed the lot inside. His wand remained in his bag, secured in a holster. Harry pushed his glasses securely against his face as he backed away from the fleeing crowd on the streets. Doing his best to look like he was just one of the panicking bystanders, Harry rounded the corner.

Harry went behind a dumpster, digging out his jacket and zipping it up to his neck. His wand and it's holster went around his left forearm. His bag he left under a stack of pallets and he jogged further down the alley.

The police hadn't arrived yet, the five o'clock traffic surely was to blame.

The window felt locked, Harry tugged again in frustration and it flew up in a smooth motion that left his arms reeling. He eased through the opening, setting his feet down against carpet.

He cracked open the office door, keeping his body away from the entrance as he peered out. Nothing, no one. He walked silently down the hallway hugging the wall towards distant sounds.

Some kind of instrument was attached to the safe's number pad, blinking green. High tech lock picking.

Harry looked into the opened door, a man was dumping pouches into a nondescript duffel bag. The thin reedy man had a sheen of sweat on his upper lip as he checked another one's contents before being satisfied.

Harry thrust his hands out, banging the man's head against the metal siding of the vault before he could reach the firearm on the shelf.

"Frank hurry up, we gotta get-" A voice stopped mid-sentence as Harry threw his uninjured hand up in a blow to the entering man's temple.

He dragged the fallen man inside the door, sealing shut the vault door behind him.

Harry ducked his head around the corner and headed towards the lobby. An elderly security guard was on the ground by the entrance, another man holding a jacket over his shoulder. No one else looked injured. A man in a ski mask stood with a handgun trained on the gathered hostages, his gaze turned towards them. Harry wondered for a moment if he looked just as ridiculous as the masked man as he tugged at his hood to go even lower before making a run for an office away from the vulnerable stairs.

"I said _everyone _out front!" An angry voice bellowed as the man turned to where he had noticed Harry's movement. The gun turned as well, "Pal, do you want to get shot?"

The back of the display he had been forced behind exploded with a hail of glass. One. Two. Three. Four shots followed him as he fled behind a column. How many bullets did Vernon's gun hold? Eight? Ten?

Harry ducked his head out and back as two more shots planted into the wall behind him and the column.

Six. Six shots. He couldn't have to many more left, if the gun was like Vernon's.

He vaunted up and slammed against the robber as another bullet cut into the ground, knocking the gun away as the other man swung the gun down onto his shoulder. Seven.

Grunting, Harry wrenched up at the man's wrist none to gracefully. Eight. Aimed at a poster on the wall.

People were already running towards the entrance, clearing the room out as Harry ducked behind a desk near the countertop. He breathed in sharply, throwing a fallen clipboard out into the space where he'd last seen the robber to keep the man's attention on him. Harry looked up at the counter, hesitating. He propelled himself across, rolling to the ground. His knee hit against a toppled chair eliciting a hiss of pain.

Scrambling towards the end he crouched beside the counter. He reached for his wand, willing to swallow the punishment for being so stupid, so _rash_. His lips were opening to shout a spell as he rose. The man was scowling at him, somehow his scowl showed behind that ridiculously clichéd mask. _Another_ gun aimed at his head fired and Harry froze at the startling sound, expecting pain. Expecting agony, death, something. He let himself breathe in again as he ascertained that he felt nothing. Eight it was.

The man frowned down at the weapon and pulled quickly again. The trigger released only another dead clicking sound. Harry grinned as he gripped the stanchion beside where he had ducked like a beater's bat, swinging up at the gun. A crashing sound echoed as the line attached to his improvised weapon carried along, weighing Harry's arms down. The gun slid out of the man's grip and clattered to the floor. The man scrambled for the gun as Harry kicked it away.

Harry thought from the cracking thud he'd broken the guy's hand. He certainly howled loud enough, hugging the appendage closer to his body.

"Fucking _punk_!"

Harry's lips tightened to keep from speaking out his own frustration as he drove his fist into the kneeling man's temple. The man crumpled fast in an immobile heap. Harry kicked the gun again further down the lobby and out of reach.

Silence was broken by several different sirens. Harry kept his face down to hide from any remaining people as he ran out of sight of the entrance.

Entering the alley in a rush he shrugged out of the cardinal covering as quickly as possible, gathering it into a ball to hide in his pack as he retrieved it.

He really needed something more like a disguise if he was going to keep getting into trouble. It occurred to him sharply that he was thinking about a _costume_. But. That was for…He stared down at the jacket in his hands. That was exactly what he had already done. He'd nearly been shot, if the gun hadn't been out of bullets, he could be dead, prophecy or not.

Careful not to hold out his wand arm Harry summoned a taxi to ride back to the hotel.

* * *

><p>His old Quidditch gear lay where he'd left it months ago in his trunk. The lot of it was withdrawn and spread out on his desk. The smell of the leather cleaner he'd treated the items with before setting them aside remained sharp about them. His boots were polished to glow warmly by the bedside lamps luminance.<p>

He picked up his Quidditch goggles, slipping them on over his glasses. Inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror he sighed. No…that wouldn't do. He set the face covering back on the desk.

The scar on his forehead had always defined him, at least in the magical world. To other wizards he was a miracle child. Different. Lucky to be alive. It identified him in the Muggle world to the neighbors, his old classmates, everyone knew who the boy with the lighting bolt scar was. A no good hooligan. Lazy. Lucky to be taken in by such a gracious family.

Lucky. Right.

There was no disguise, no anything with it glaring out on his forehead. And he couldn't do anything else without a real disguise. He was liable to get himself attacked or hauled back and chastised for being such an idiot. No more helping people or he'd be hurting people. Those in the building with him, random strangers on the street, Kara...

He gathered the gloves up, rubbing the smooth textile in thought as he stared down at the table's offerings.

His red cloak bore not only his school name but his surname and player number on the back. He fetched one of his Potions knives and began picking out threads on the front to see what he could do with it.

The Hogwarts badge lay in tatters on the desk once he finished. He ruffled the fabric, sending remnants to the tabletop. Pulling through the last of the thread he inspected it. Turning it inside out, Harry spread the fabric between the surface with his arm and free hand holding it taut. He worked slowly as to not tear the fabric, eventually setting it down to stretch his hands and fingers with the number and letters ER and half a T remaining.

It definitely looked closer to something appropriate for Muggle Halloween.

Harry ordered delivery and settled in, drawing absently as a comedy filled the room with canned laughs.

* * *

><p>Ivory. Porcelain. Fair. What in god's name was he doing? His hand cradled the side of his head as he bent down to inspect the bottles, cremes, powders and <em>mineral<em> powders. What was even the difference between powders and mineral powders? Was a concealer a better choice over foundation? Foundation, that meant something to build on. Surely he needed that?

Harry held his hand out, above the section of lighter skin tones. His skin always made a pathetic effort of tanning from his time in the sun working or training outside. Fair. That wasn't at all girly. He comforted himself with that knowledge as he picked up one of each product. They all seemed to essential to chose.

Harry faced the contraption that had moved him to be brave enough to buy the make-the disguise materials in the first place. Self Check-out.

Thrilled with the anonymity of it Harry picked up his bag setting it back into the basket. Returning his attention to pay, a bold and colorful phrase read out **ITEM NOT BAGGED**. A slightly calmer _Do you wish to bag this item? Y/N_, sat beneath it on the screen.

"I already bagged the item." He muttered, setting the bag back on what was apparently a pressure sensor. Harry pressed Y and waited. He held his breath, picking it back up after mentally singing the Hogwarts theme song internally. He swiped the console to pay and was relieved when after a faint whirring his receipt was spat out. He quickly secured the see-through plastic bag in his pack once he left.

* * *

><p>Maybe those cotton balls he'd seen on the same aisle were meant for something…or those sponges. He'd never seen his Aunt Petunia making herself, or any of the girls at Hogwarts. He finally scrubbed his face clear after achieving something that resembled normal enough skin with his hair covering it.<p>

He dialed out on the hotel phone after glancing at the clock.

"Hello?" She answered after the fourth ring sounding perky.

"Hey."

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing much." He swept the makeup into a free drawer beside the sink. "You?"

"Mum and I went to an art gallery last night, post modern. It was very, post modern. Have you been anywhere interesting?"

"Yeah. I think the Dueling club should train with laser tag."

"What?"

Harry recounted yesterday's foray as he sifted through his closets' holdings.

"As fun as that sounds," Her voice was dry, "The Muggle technology involved wouldn't work around Hogwarts. Maybe paint ball…."

"What's that?" He pulled out another lightweight long-sleeved shirt, tossing it atop the bed with his free hand. It was easier to cover the scar on his forearm than attract attention.

"It's sort of the same thing, but you're hit with a ball of paint that bursts all over you."

"Sounds, messy."

"A cousin dragged me out to a course last summer. It was a bit painful. But fun." She paused before asking, "You have been staying out of trouble haven't you?"

He decided glossing over his latest escapades was the wiser route. "I haven't even spotted another wizard, as far as I know. As long as I keep my head down and don't use any magic, they can't really find me if they haven't yet, right?"

"You haven't used magic?" Hermione's voice pitched higher over the phone in disbelief.

"No, I haven't. I've been really careful and-"

"Oh Harry that wasn't what I meant."

"Do you want me to get in trouble?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Of course not. Well, not entirely."

"What?"

"It's rather obvious, I thought. The spell monitoring underage wizards and witches can't detect if _they_ use magic, only if it's used around them. They ignore the alarms for children living with other magic users. That's why Fred and George were never reprimanded and how Dobby got you into trouble. They're only watching addresses that have underage students in the area. It's rather prejudiced against Muggleborns, and people like you who live with Muggle relatives, don't you think?"

"I can use magic?" He frowned, focusing on what he thought was most relevant from her response.

"Didn't I just say that? Not that I think you should overdo it. You're asking for trouble if a Muggle sees you."

"Oh. Right. I won't let them see me then." He stared down at his work space contemplatively.

"You'd best not."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Eleven**

Clark looked up from the knife that was dicing, his head tilting at some distant sound. His hands continued moving with subdued superspeed while his attention wandered as well during those brief moments listening.

"Not again." Lois turned and looked up from straining fettuccine in dismay. But she was gazing down, not at him nor out the kitchen window to scan the skyline for signs of catastrophe.

His usual distractions were something she'd long since grown accustomed to, however it was clear from his intent expression something else was on his radar this time. She'd registered him dashing out six times just since they'd been off work. He managed to be back to whichever task he was carrying out after several blinks, the faint breezes unleashed through his coming and going barely ruffling her drawn up hair. His short time away reassured her no super villain had reared their head so far.

Clark followed her gaze down and sighed. "Sorry. They're almost here." His hand twisted the remaining metal back into shape. He picked the broken metal tip off of the countertop and straightened it as well between his thumb and forefinger with a delicate rubbing motion. He directed a laser along both edges, fusing them once again together. He scanned the area for any remnant metal scraps before returning to salvage the partially pulverized celery with just as much surgical precision. The earlier happening with the lettuce head had been far more unfortunate.

"You are going to be nice, aren't you? Who am I talking to? You're always nice." She continued, not letting him answer with a surely surprised rebuttal. "But you're not going to make this uncomfortable for Kara are you?"

"Lois…"

"As long as he checks out, we can't stop her from making a life for herself Clark. When we agreed that it would be for the best for her to live with us in the city for a while you knew she would make friends sooner or later. And it's just turned out to be sooner."

"I know. She hasn't been on Earth for that long and…she's been through so much. I'm just trying to look out for her."

"I know and she knows. But you still have to let her have this, a little normal. I know you have to get that."

He placed the knife down, and pushed his glasses up absently as he exhaled, fingers resting on the side of the frames for a brief moment. "I do. I really do.

"Good."

"But I can't help worrying."

On tip toes she brushed against his cheek as she passed, her arms filled with a serving bowl. "That's what makes you a good man."

* * *

><p>Standing in front of the looming apartment complex Harry smoothed out his shirt front once more.<p>

"Nervous?"

"I can think of worse things to do than have dinner with your cousin and his wife."

"You haven't even met them yet."

Harry paused from his flustered preening to catch her quirked features smoothing into an assuring grin. She unlocked and opened the apartment door with a slight shove that only just made the frame rattle.

Harry's back was ramrod straight. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, they seemed very pleasant from what Kara had to say.

"Guys?" Kara called out as she closed the door behind them.

"In the dining room." A male voice carried out beyond the entryway and the visible living area. Kara nodded with her head for him to follow and Harry fell instep behind her.

"Harry, this is Clark and his wife Lois." Clark was towering enough that Harry's neck angled up as he held his hand out. Blue eyes marked their family resemblance, as well as the firm handshake, his shrouded by glasses with more angled frames than Harry's own. Though his height was impressive, his smile and stance were friendly. Lois was somewhat closer to his own height, with dark hair and a different shade of blue eyes.

"This is Harry." Motioning with her hands, Kara gestured at him as he grasped Lois' hand. Harry was mildly surprised at the grip she presented: firmer than her husbands. She was smiling good-naturedly as well, but her bearing was a good deal more assertive and self-assured. Not unlike Hermione when she was getting ready to pin down an unfortunate first year with her SPEW collection box in hand.

"It's good to meet you both. You have a lovely home." Harry wasn't being polite. From what he had seen the Kent household was well ordered, though it hardly appeared as though they were vying to reproduce magazine covers like the Dursley's. It also wasn't filled with the chaotic energy that defined the Burrow. What was presented was a blended harmony of the two. The curtains of the dining area were drawn back as those in living area had been, both exposing an aesthetically pleasing view of the cityscape. The sun arched low, but twilight had yet to fall. His gaze briefly fell to the smartly set table. Faint steam rose from several serving dishes and the smells were inviting and pleasant.

"Nice to meet you too." "We're happy to have you. Please sit." Polite utterances were matched with gestures towards the table as they themselves walked around it to their seats. Settled in at the table, Harry hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether or not he ought to speak, or what subject to speak on. Topics he'd reviewed on the walk over with Kara fled his mind faster than a Snitch. Both Lois and Clark were fans of gridiron, a sport Harry was entirely unfamiliar with and couldn't begin to pretend to be knowledgeable of, and he had little interest in journalism. A substantial dearth in his knowledge of modern news would also be a hindrance.

Mr. Kent began with, "Kara tells us you two were thinking about checking out the wax exhibit at the Metro Museum."

"Yes, I read that it will only be in town for a few more days. It sounds like it will be fun." Kara had picked out the activity from a poster advertisement, Super-Villains was the theme.

The awkward and fortunately short silence broke when Mr. Kent addressed him again. "Your parents, are they in town on business?"

"My parents are dead Sir. I live with relatives." Clarks' face softened considerably at that statement, and Lois' slightly. Harry continued quickly to stave off the coming apology. "This is just a holiday. No business, thank goodness." No business for him, nope.

"You don't have to call me Sir, Harry."

"Sorry Si-, Mr. Kent. I attend boarding school. Our professors really hammer in how to properly address adults."

"It's not year round." Lois presented her husband with a colorful salad bowl as she remarked from across the table.

Harry answered, "We get time off for summer and winter, and briefly in spring for Easter."

In synch with the pacing, Clark took the salad bowl and the next question. "What school do you attend?"

Harry paused for a moment, fussing with his water glass to give himself time to think of the proper answer. The Dursely's told everyone who asked (and some who didn't) that he attended a school for teenagers with criminal inclinations, St. Brutus's. Stonewall High was where he would have attended had his relatives gotten their way. Harry didn't think it necessary to offer a fake name so he answered with minor editing, "Hogwarts School. It's small. I'd never heard of it until I received my acceptance letter."

"If you didn't apply?" Lois frowned slightly.

"My parents attended." Harry answered with a shrug of his shoulder. "Kara said you both work for _The_ _Daily Planet_. What sections do you write for?" Their names were familiar however Harry didn't often have the chance to read Muggle papers; his Uncle Vernon was invariably fond of _The Daily Mail_ and so he had never read _The Daily Planet_ until coming to its country of origin.

"In general current events, investigative reporting, whatever the story is."

Kara pierced a tomato with her fork. "Or whoever."

Lois and Clark looked at Kara with nearly identical expressions. It was escaping him, to put a name to it….whatever it was it was fleeting…and then she caught his eye with a smile that was wholly amused and it broadened. "Lois usually covers Superman." That was clearly supposed to explain her previous words. "Everyone knows that."

"Oh." Harry almost frowned, catching himself in time to prevent what would be to others present an unwarranted remark. Rita Skeeter 'Covered' The Boy-Who-Lived for the Daily Prophet during the Quidditch Tournament. People seemed to have an overwhelmingly positive opinion of Superman though, from what he'd read and what he had seen around the city. He doubted that Mrs. Kent could possibly be as loathsome in her journalism as Rita at any rate. He felt a little silly for thinking bad about the woman in quick judgment, even if it was unspoken.

"What do you think about him?" Kara continued, her eyes glittering with mischief for some still concealed reason, while her cousin and his wife seemed still uncomfortable but politely interested in his answer.

"Who?" Had he missed her, someone else talking? "Superman?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know." And honestly, he didn't.

She actually looked surprised and one thing about Kara he'd learned, she was rather hard to surprise. "How can you not know?"

"Of course I think he's a hero. He's clearly done amazing things. But beyond that, I don't know that much to form an opinion of him. There's not a lot of superheroes flying around England, it's a little hard to believe sometimes."

"Yes. It is." Lois murmured thoughtfully.

Harry's throat cleared after taking a sip of water. He spoke after placing the glass back preferring to avoid the conversation settling on him again so quickly. "It must be interesting to work at a company with such global reach."

"It has its moments." Clark smiled, Lois nodding with an amused expression as she glanced up from her plate. "So, Harry, what year are you in?"

"Sixth year, this fall." Year levels were different in the states so he hastily added, "We graduate at the seventh level."

"Where did you say your school was located?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't. It's in Scotland."

"Kara mentioned there's a train you and your classmates take from London. That must be an interesting way to travel."

"It's tradition. And Hogwarts is nothing if not traditional."

"It isn't much of a ride from your home to London then?"

"No, it's just an hour's drive." Harry answered Lois.

"Well, Kara doesn't have too much time before her school starts. When do your classes pick back up?" Mr. Kent inquired.

"September 1st."

"And how long will you be in town?" The older man questioned further, his body leaning over the table slightly as he addressed Harry.

"Through the end of August."

"What do you think you'll do after you finish school?" Harry's hands paused yet again, the stilled utensils hovering over his plate. Such normal, _normal_ questions. They almost threw him for a loop, regardless that he'd prepared several mundane answers. Regrettably, he hadn't concocted an extensive false backstory. What had he been considered pursuing a few short months ago when McGonnagal had argued with Umbridge over his future? Auror: Magic Cop, sort of.

"I haven't thought about it too much. My House Head did talk with me about gearing my studies this next year."

"How do you mean?" Lois asked.

Harry responded, "Specific classes, advanced courses, to make it easier to transition once I graduate."

She continued, "Are you interested in any field in particular?"

"Something in law enforcement, maybe."

Clark looked up from his plate in surprise. "Law enforcement?"

"My parents were officers." Officers of Magical Law Enforcement. He was almost getting the hang of white washing. Almost. "And I'd be helping people. That couldn't be a bad thing." His own words were helping to clarify his thoughts. He doubted he'd ever feel inclined to work for the Ministry with all the bad blood between them. But helping people, _saving_ people that would be a job he could be happy with. More than.

"No. No it wouldn't." Clark responded after a moment.

Her head leaning towards him Kara ventured questioningly. "I didn't know that."

Harry looked up and in her direction. "It doesn't really matter, that's a long way off." The future wasn't something he and Kara had delved into. He rarely dwelled on it left to his own devices after all. It was a great deal more than he wanted to consider: to wish and plan and to look forward to. The only goal he'd ever let himself look forward to was clearing Sirius' name and being able to live with him one day.

"House Head, is that a teacher that's in charge of you?" Lois spoke again as she gestured for her husband to pass the salt.

"Yes. They are our advisors for which classes to take as I said. What to do after graduation, punish us if we get in trouble. That kind of thing."

"A lot of experience with that last one?" Kara asked. It never occurred to her that he would. And also, it might cut short the others' inquiries.

"Sometimes, not that often though. Being tardy is a high offense for most of my professors." He smiled reassuringly.

Shifting forward with her glass gripped loosely Kara asked, "You're already at boarding school, you can't be grounded, right?"

"They could restrict us to our Common Rooms, but that's fairly unusual. It's almost always detention. Usually, we have to clean until our fingers drop off. I prefer that over when they get creative."

"How creative?" Lois asked with a faint trace of amusement.

"Lines detailing the offense. Filing papers. Gathering wild plants for the horticulture professor. Addressing letters for the staff. That sort of thing."

"That doesn't sound bad." The other teenager remarked.

"You haven't met our eccentric staff." He partially echoed her words from the hallway back to her with a smile to dispel any serious connotations. She rolled her eyes with a grin in response. Feeling more confident Harry continued, "There are four Houses, dormitories. We compete for points in assignments, sports. There's a trophy and a feast at the end of the year for whichever House wins. Gryffindor has won several times in the last few years." Harry twirled his fork into his spoon as he spoke.

"You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?" Kara asked, her eyes scrunched in amusement.

"Yeah." Harry smiled back, House pride swelling his chest as he straightened his shoulders subconsciously.

Lois queried, "What do you do for fun at school?"

"Well. I like sports. Last year I led a study group with a friend of mine. I like walking the grounds. They're really quite beautiful in winter."

"What's your favorite course?"

Defense nearly fell out of his mouth automatically. However the lingering bad taste in his mouth from Umbridge and the last year partially saved him and the stark knowledge that the response Defense in any Muggle setting would be odd did as well. So many of his subjects fell short of Muggle counterparts, "I'd have to say either Astronomy or Horticulture."

Additionally he didn't loathe those courses as he did Potions due to the Professor, and he'd translated the course as Chemistry to Kara.

Kara directed at her cousin and his wife, "I thought we could take the bus out to the Metropolis Observatory this weekend, if that's okay with you guys."

"As long as it's not too late." Clark acquiesced conditionally after a moment of glancing at his wife. He turned back to Harry, "I'm sure your guardians wouldn't want you out late at night either, Harry."

"You're probably right Mr. Kent." The Dursley's would be terrified he was practicing the Dark Arts in the dead of night. Or even worse at Privet Drive someone who knew them would recognize him roaming the streets and give credence to his ruffian image in the local gossip. They were diligently disciplining him via proxy after all. Being decent people they wouldn't allow their disturbed nephew to be out and about with the opportunity to cause mischief while good people were sleeping.

"What was the area you grew up in like?"

"Suburban." His face didn't change at all as he answered.

"It's very, very boring there." Kara nodded knowledgeably. Her cousin arched an eyebrow at her in question. Harry had painted a brief picture of the identical houses, the perfectly maintained lawns and his Uncle's competition with the neighbors for who had the newest and most expensive everything. She herself hadn't been exposed to those peculiarities of Earth's social customs but those sounded extremely off-putting. Her own stilted descriptions of the place she grew up in had been vague. She'd instead spoken of her appreciation for her Aunt Martha and Uncle's Jonathan's farm in Smallville and her time there before coming to the city.

Harry continued speaking to supplement her rather astute and apt remark. "There isn't much to do. Besides the park."

"Well, at least London is a short distance away. Does your family visit there often?"

"Sometimes. Usually I just pass through. Have either of you been?"

"For assignments. You two have been spending so much time together, I'd like to hear what-"Mr. Kent stopped speaking abruptly after his wife looked up with an odd expression. Kara stared intently at him as well. He cleared his throat and continued, "What you think of Metropolis now that you've seen some of her sights."

"It's been wonderful. I don't think I've seen even a portion of what there is, but I hope to see more before I leave."

"I do as well." Mr. Kent smiled bobbing his head while his wife nodded her agreement.

"And we've had a great time seeing them together." Kara smiled at Harry broadly.

The conversation drifted to less academic subjects. Mr. and Mrs. Kent, or Mrs. Lane as Kara had told him she preferred for professional reasons, elicited a list of the tourist attractions he had already visited from him and gave advice on several themselves.

Harry leant back in the chair slightly, watching Kara sculpt with small strokes in the melting ice cream in her bowl's base. The conversation had wandered back to superheroes after Lois and Clark left to tend to the cleanup. "I saw him my first day here. The fight was up in the sky and all over the place. Some giant robot…it was all a little strange."

"Strange? Why?" Kara paused her artistic renderings for the moment.

"I'm still trying to figure out why someone would build a giant robot with tentacles. It's already a giant robot, did it need the tentacles? They're just something to rip off. Completely impractical."

"You say that like you thought about the practicality of tentacles for a seriously long time." Kara rolled her eyes at his disapproving tone.

"They made an impression. And I didn't need a long time to figure out that if I ever make myself an evil robot, it won't have tentacles."

"Why would you make an evil robot?"

"Why does anyone?" He leant back, his hands spread out and palms up.

"Okay then, if you had an evil robot, what would you give it?"

"Like what? Strength? Laser eyes? That one had laser eyes too. And it was strong."

"Yeah. But most robots are stronger than humans anyway so strength doesn't count."

"Well, yeah. Okay, I guess flying."

"Flying?"

"I love flying. No aerophobia for my evil robots. Your turn."

"Something with echolocation, it would emit a sound able to give bats migraines. So no one could ever follow it." Something fell in the kitchen, startling them both.

Harry turned back and ventured cautiously, "I don't think that's how that works." At least, he was reasonably sure. He hadn't gotten very far in Muggle sciences, but he did have the principles down.

"Yeah. You're right. I guess just being able to extra smash stuff. That's always a good throwback for a reason." She shrugged leaning back in her chair.

Mr. Kent and Mrs. Lane reminded Harry of several of the city's attractions as he gathered his blazer and shrugged into it. After he had expressed his thanks for dinner, Kara led him down the hallway towards the elevators they'd came off of on entry.

He was not entirely sure if he'd carried the evening as well as he thought. Conversations with his friends' parents were limited to the Weasley's and brief chats with the Granger's so he hadn't much of a well of experience to draw upon. He glanced at Kara nervously but with an optimistic expression. "They seem very nice."

"They didn't exactly switch off investigative mode tonight. I'm sorry about that. They are nice-but they're-that's _so_…annoying sometimes though." Her face cycled through a series of emotions, pleased, irritated and finally frustrated.

His mouth twitched as she made a face, pushing her hair back with both hands. "I can imagine."

"Don't laugh." Her body turned fluidly parallel to his. Her voice was a little sterner than she meant.

"Okay."

She stepped forward her face solemn. He added an equally serious, "Really," but it wasn't assuring. His eyes were more than amused even if his mouth was now smoothed out and confident. He really had to be a terrible liar she realized. Every emotion was displayed for the world. Kind of unfair. She wondered suddenly if she was a bad liar too.

"Kara?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, her throat tightening. She breathed out.

Harry was staring at her. Concerned. Not that alone. Cautious, uncertain.

"I'll see you tomorrow, England." The words streamed over her shoulder along with her hair as she took the stairs back into the building three at a time.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

**Chapter Twelve**

The robes pooled on the edge of the comforter. The remnant streaks of gold were vanished, as well as lingering strands of lettering. Once crimson, he'd shifted the color into an immutable black. As fond as he was of the original colors, red was highly visible. While quite a few shades deeper, to outward appearance they were now not that different from his regular school robes. The exceptions being that they were much more durable and were constructed with minor protective spells placed upon them to cushion blows incurred in the sport.

He'd frowned over his school slacks the night before, and the others he'd purchased on his second day in the city. His Quidditch and school uniform pants were either thin or heavy fabrics. While heavy fabric was more desirable for protection, the heat of his current location was persuasive enough for Harry to pass over them. He had also had a growth spurt since he last played Quidditch and the tailored pants fell short of being acceptable. His school uniform pants had been altered in Hogsmeade but weren't sturdy enough to hold up to vigorous exercise, thin or thick fabric, so he passed on them as well. He wasn't skilled or knowledgeable about altering clothes himself, so set his eyes on the slacks he'd purchased. None were naturally black, but that was no issue.

Gloves lay beside the robes, t-shirt and color-charmed jeans. A sturdy pair of boots rested on the floor once more. Gathered together, they represented a nearly complete costume.

Dragon hide was extremely popular in Wizarding clothing, being both fire proof and tougher. He didn't own very much in the way of that, besides his Herbology and Potions gloves and the thick and durable protective pads which were fantastic for Quidditch. The pads he owned were a mahogany shade of brown. Even if he turned them another shade as he had the cloak, they weren't a far cry from his Quidditch gear and ran the risk of being identifiable as belonging to a wizard for any Muggleborns and Half-bloods who might catch sight of him.

The goggle lenses, altered for his prescription years ago by Madam Pomfrey at the request of a frustrated Oliver Wood, were exchangeable to wear in place of his spectacles. He'd intended to use them as such, altering the upper rims to encompass his forehead. While the angry red of his scar was subdued by the application of make-up, he'd been uncomfortable with the worry that he might rub it unconsciously, as he pushed his hair back or any number of things.

The rim material refused to properly enlarge, and he grudgingly realized it too must have been enchanted. Stretched paper thin at the top, the disproportional ends looked more than odd. He reversed the charm and was left with the original goggles. After several minutes of frustration, Harry set to removing the lenses themselves. They were stubbornly ensconced and not until Harry hesitantly summoned one did they give way. It cracked in two yanking free of the frames and both pieces settled onto the desktop where he directed. Harry murmured, "_Reparo_." There was a visible flash of light as the pieces fused themselves together once more. He repeated the process on the remaining lens.

Both sat whole and gleaming in the desk lamp's luminesce. Harry tapped the glassy surface again. The color shifted from crystal clear to opaquely-shaded. To all appearances looking as though it originated from a pair of sunglasses.

It took several times and adjustments for the alteration to be merely optical on one side. He'd learnt the charm through less than studious means. Third year, before the season changing game with Hufflpuff, Harry caught the twins and Lee Jordan fussing over a section of the locker room walls after practice. A number of stone bricks were stacked against the wall away from their gathering. Harry drew closer, curious what they were up to. George was attempting to cast with a serious expression. Lee corrected George, enunciating the pronunciation slowly twice. Neighboring the boys lockers were of course the girls, and through the window-like back of the mirror Harry had been shocked to catch flashes of his female teammates towel-clad forms after the haze of light proved the spell successful. He'd stammered the other boys ought to quit what they were doing, turning away with a fierce blush as they jumped at his voice.

The ignoble trio had started laughing so boisterously, one of the twins accidentally leant too hard against the mirror, banging his arm as he tried to support himself. On the girls' side, all three turned to what he then realized was a mirror. Katie Bell had been the first to storm into the boys section, she, Alicia and Angelina proceeded to chase the twins around, shouting out. Lee had clambered into the nearest locker swiftly for sanctuary before they descended and Harry stood, his back glued firmly to the stone wall, entirely ignored.

He'd still been standing there when Oliver clambered from the showers to see what the commotion was. Oliver had very seriously demanded they all of them cease what they were doing lest the team be caught by a professor and banned from the next game. Angelina and Fred had shared a dastardly grin before turning their wands on their coach. Both spells had collided and rather than Angelina's intended dousing and whatever Fred had intended, the room was submerged in bubbles shifting in color. When the bubbles burst on skin, the floor, the walls or anywhere their color altered wherever they'd touched to their shade. It had taken well over two hours for the lot of them to both fix the damage and clean themselves up once more.

Harry smiled fondly in memory as he held the lens he was working on up once more, seeing through it unclouded to his satisfaction. The final shade was dark enough to conceal his eye color but not his eyes themselves. Stretching his back and yawning, Harry glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Curtains left drawn aside, Harry turned his gaze out and up. Above the skyscrapers, and to the city-muted night sky. The night was nearly swallowed in darkness but for the fingernail of light cutting through the black. Faded stars broke up the rest. His mind's eye automatically drew the patterns that he knew by rote. After several moments Harry turned over and fell away to sleep.

* * *

><p>Morning's first light slowly roused Harry from sleep. Falling out of bed, Harry rubbed at his eyes blearily. Harry dug through the chest of drawers and pulled himself into clothes decent to run in, wand tucked inside his long-sleeve. A thin duo of strings held it taut in place so as not to slide out at an inopportune moment. In annoyance he wished for something more substantial. He'd seen holsters in Diagon Alley hanging from leather belts though they were not terribly practical for walking around in the regular world. Moody carried a wand holster; straps and strips of leather keeping the wand in place along his forearm and a much better system than Harry's own approximation. His own wand was far too long to carry comfortably in his pocket and it was very inconvenient to tuck it away in a bag when the seconds fumbling for it could lead to disaster. He couldn't very well go to a Muggle store and look for either belt or arm holsters for wands. It would be an amusing experience trying and attempting to explain to a clerk his desire to carry a stick at all times.<p>

He had seen neither hide nor hair of a Wizarding shopping Centre, not that he'd seen a fraction of the city. Diagon Alley after all wasn't tucked into the hub of the shopping districts of London, and he'd stuck fairly close to the beaten trail of Metrpolis's tourist sections so far. He had no doubt the city was host to wizards, its size alone almost guaranteed Muggleborns at the least. Even if he could disguise himself in some manner so as not to be recognized on sight, he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to search Metropolis' magical population out.

Harry gathered his clothes up from the small heap he'd tossed down prior to showering upon his return, placing them in the small basket he'd bought for that purpose some days ago in order to avoid calling laundry services to fetch it every day. Comfortable day clothes were crawled into quickly, but an abrupt _brrring!_ interrupted the rest of his morning ritual. Toweling his hair roughly Harry navigated around the bed to reach for the telephone. Three additional rings sang off before he let off a light hearted "Hello?"

Hermione drawled across the line, "You're sounding chipper."

"Just had a good day yesterday, that's all." And he had enjoyed the evening. Kara's guardians were very pleasant, if a little inquisitive. Kara seemed very happy he'd made a good impression on them, and that made him happy.

Harry eased into the desk chair, towel draped over his shoulder. He'd left the curtains and blinds when he woke as they were. Even at the early hour the sounds of the city stirring to alertness drifted through the walls and glass.

"I take it you survived?" The phone crackled for a moment as though it was moving on Hermione's end.

"Well, I still have a pulse." Adjusting the cordless against his ear, Harry stretched back.

She sighed in good natured irritation. "Dumbledore wrote me. He's sent another round of letters out to everybody to see if they've any idea where you might be. I mentioned in my reply you were always intrigued by Sirius' tales of being a fugitive. And how fascinated you were in those tropical birds he used to send during fourth year."

Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleasantly shocked or appalled, and her antics back in England drew him out of sadness over the mention of his godfather. "You didn't."

"It's not as though I lied. I misdirected." Hermione was most insistent upon that. "Anyway, I've been to Diagon Alley. You know it's always easy to tell what our new texts will be when they start increasing inventory, and I won't have a chance to go again until right before school starts. Mum and Dad settled on when to take some time off from their practice, we're going to Italy."

"That sounds fantastic. But didn't you already buy everything for this year last year?" Hermione had begun a tradition first year tracking down upper years for their required text lists. Harry's attention drifted to the television, a thin scrawl was flooding the bottom of the news report. He stood and walked over to the edge of the bed the better to read.

"They could change their syllabuses." Hem-hawing, Hermione put forth.

"Did you see anything for Defense?" Harry asked. His attention was grabbed by a blurb mentioning a report of survivors from the San Diego disaster being discovered alive. It sounded like good news, but he was left wondering when a city had managed to sink and wouldn't that have been something considered newsworthy in the Wizarding World?

"No, I haven't read of a new professor being hired yet either in the _Prophet_." She sounded rather worried. "I do hope they'll settle on someone before September!"

"Dumbledore won't want to leave the spot open for the Ministry to interfere again." At least Hary was almost entirely sure of that.

"I'm rather surprised he did last time…" Hermione trailed off before continuing, "Though there's not too many people qualified and willing."

"Besides Snape, for the willing part. And thank god that won't happen. Lupin could come back though." Harry's hand stilled on the remote as the thought struck him. Lupin to his estimation had been the best of their best Defense professors; albeit lined up against two of Voldemort minions (and Voldemort himself, sort of), a fraud and a toad.

Hermione regret in her voice, disagreed, "I doubt the parents would let him, it's a shame though. And as…interesting as it might be to learn from the genuine article, I don't think Professor Moody would agree to teach with things as they are. I suppose we'll have to wait to find out, like-"

Harry cut in, flicking the channel to something less serious. "The past two years?"

She made a sound of agreement. "Are you planning to come back before the train? I mean, are you going to be in London before the 1st?"

"I kind of have to, to get new robes. And books. And a crate of owl treats so Hedwig will forgive me." Canned laughter echoed in the room, the falseness contrasting with Hermione's amused giggle. Harry leant back, his split attention fading from the television. They talked a few moments more, Hermione worrying over her OWL results. Harry considered it fairly ridiculous that she actually believed she'd done less than perfection. No amount of consolation would deter her from worrying however. He rather dreaded NEWT's, which she was already reviewing for as of last year, and wondered exactly how much they would affect her mental health. And in the next stilted heartbeat considered their effect on his own by association.

If she caught of any of his more cautious remarks regarding the coming term she didn't let on. Harry finally excused himself to finish getting ready for the day.

* * *

><p>They convened inside of a small diner two blocks from their destination. It boasted serving breakfast all day long and a steady and sizeable crowd for the hour testified to the quality. Harry was more than happy to delve into a plate of hearty fare.<p>

His smile, his face and eyes, all faded into a morose visage. It was sharp, sudden yet slow to her perception as she focused on it. She followed his gaze in confusion, finding only a woman and a small boy walking along the opposite street with a dog.

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip before venturing, "Are you okay?"

He turned to her as though struck, his eyes clearing swiftly. "Kara? Yes. Yes, I'm fine. You were saying something about a game?"

"The Meteors. Clark can't make it with Lois next weekend so they gave me their tickets." As though as an apology for the previous night, her cousin and his wife had made the peace offering before they left for work in the morning. Though of course if she asked if that was their purpose, Clark at least would deny it fervently.

"And the Meteors are…?" He asked, trying to recall the appellation.

Kara gave a wry grin while still watching him carefully, "Baseball."

Nodding, Harry replied, "Ah. Apt." The smile he gave seemed a little forced but it was a smile. She was relieved to hear him answer, "I'd love to."

"Clark and Lois told me I have to be back by eleven tomorrow." She continued, speaking on their planned trip to the observatory. She tucked straying locks behind her ears as she shifted in her seat.

"That sounds reasonable." More than to Harry, considering Gryffindor's curfew was a sad 9:00 PM fifth year and up.

"Harry, I kind of have to ask. When we met you said you just took a random flight. You are here, alone, aren't you? I mean, you don't know anyone or aren't visiting with anyone?"

Harry considered lying. Considered it. The worst that could happen was, well, he wasn't certain what the worst could be. Having to leave seemed probable. And that, that was an entirely undesirable outcome. He found himself nodding before he decided.

"Oh." Kara sounded unsurprised. "I think Clark and Lois think you're with your relatives."

Harry nodded again, thinking on what to say.

"They didn't ask me, but... They could be a little," Kara raised a hand in concern, palm up. "If they knew you weren't. I'm not planning on telling them, though." She added the last hastily.

Harry swallowed. Uncertain what to say in response. "I just wanted a trip by myself. That's all."

"I get it. I wish I could get Clark and Lois to let me go out of town alone." She offered a rueful grin.

"It wasn't hard to convince my Aunt." Harry leant back, a smile flickering across his face.

"She must really trust you, to let you travel alone." Kara commented.

Harry replied with a smile, "Or something."

His off-hand response being inappropriate he realized quickly before Kara asked, "Or what?"

"Relieved." Harry supplied, his head ducking once more. "We don't get on well. Have you gone to a Meteors game before?"

"Nope. But they're good." Lois had given her that impression as Kara herself hadn't been to an Earth game of any sort yet. Kara had read up on popular Earth sports games, football seemingly more popular in the United States.

"Who are they playing?" Asked Harry.

Kara let Harry distract her from the topic of his relatives. She could easily read from his voice and expression he had no desire to talk about them. Conversation shifted from the Meteors to the subjects of the wax exhibit. On Paradise Island there hadn't been much to do besides either training or reading and Diana had pressed her to study files on Earth's villains. Besides Darkseid, she had yet to encounter other villains. Kara herself was eager to see firsthand wax likenesses of people who might one day be her future opponents; flat, still photographs rarely did justice after all.

* * *

><p>Typing, quiet and loud conversations, calls for lunch orders, printers humming and papers ruffling; all merged into the bustle of the Daily Planet. It was a familiar enough cacophony that two of the paper's star reporters felt it safe to talk about a more delicate topic.<p>

"I haven't had that much time, but this is all I've got so far. Not much. He had a few write ups in ele-primary school. Fighting. There's not a lot of information on his current school. It's listed as private and yep, in Scotland on the UK registry." Lois leaned over the paper work as she spoke, absently tapping her pen.

"What else?" Clark asked.

"Parents, Lily and James Potter died in a house fire in Godric's Hollow, Devon on October 31st, 1992. Ward of his maternal aunt, a Petunia Dursley and her husband Vernon. Vernon Dursley is the director of Grunnings, a drill manufacturer. The Dursley's have one child, a son, Dudley." Her lips curled in amusement at that as she glanced up.

"Home address is 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, about an hour from London. Verifying the parents attended the same school has been difficult. This place doesn't even have a website and the number provided on the registry played the dullest classical music for over an hour. I had to hang up when Perry called me over. James Potter was born and attended primary school in Godric's Hollow. Lily Potter nee Evans born and attended school in Spinner's End, Manchester. Both withdrew from local schools when they turned eleven, so it's very likely. James Potter had a few speeding tickets, but otherwise a spotless record. Harry's cousin actually has a bit of a record from over a year ago; disturbing the peace.

The parent's occupation wasn't listed in the local paper though." She frowned, flipping back through. "If they were cops there should have been some mention in the obituaries…I called the local precincts, neither of them were ever employed. I don't know why he would lie about something like that. He might not be, it could be some other agency, or they commuted. It's probably nothing."

"But other than that he's checked out then?" Clark looked up from the print-outs he was scanning slowly.

Lois hesitated for a moment, "There's something else. I don't know. It's really not anything."

Her husband asked, "What?"

"Something from the paper." She turned to her computer screen and dragged a news article up so that it filled the display screen. Clark leaned forward, scanning the article quickly as she spoke. "James and Lily Potter were found to have died of smoke inhalation. According to the fire inspector, the fire originated in the nursery. Their child was in the custody of his aunt when the authorities came to deliver the news three days later."

"What's _odd_ is that the Dursley's claimed that a family friend of the Potters' who had apparently been baby-sitting dropped the child off a day after the fire, informing them of the deaths. Before making contact with the Dursley's police believed Harry had died in the fire as well."

"Why wouldn't the family friend have contacted the police that the child was safe?" Lois turned back to Clark, her pen tapping rhythmically in her left hand, "And why wouldn't the Dursley's have contacted the police themselves? It is strange, isn't it?" It sounded like something normal people would have dismissed but reporters, especially investigative reporters, were skeptical by nature.

"I guess grief could explain it." He finally answered, and she nodded in agreement.

"Still, it's a little strange." She shrugged. "But that's really all that was standing out. No juvenile record. Nothing. Nothing that I've found yet at least."

Lois asked after a moment of observing him, "Do you think he's, okay?"

"I don't see any evidence otherwise." Clark said simply.

She considered his face with a raised eyebrow, "You're not disappointed are you?"

"No." Scandalized at her assumption, Clark returned to his desk.

* * *

><p><em>The Royal Flush Gang<em> read out in stilted lettering at the foot of the waxen gathering's base. An information poster adjacent listed out their notorious achievements and failures in brevity. Several news covers and other photographs were framed and set along the enclave. Harry stepped over to read the articles, unfamiliar with the villains. Finishing, he turned back to regard the statues proper.

Wax glistened under display lights. One figure, placard reading Ace, appeared more realistic than the rest of those gathered, as well as the rest of the displays he'd viewed so far. Looming more than a head over Harry, its metallic skin sheen appeared genuine. Of course real clothes, prop weapons and so on were incorporated into the designs, but Ace looked wholly metallic.

He observed the statue contemplatively, fingers drifting down to pause over his pants pocket where his wand rested. He felt a shot of embarrassment run through him as he reminded himself where he was. Just because he was surrounded by moving portraits, statutes, suits of armor at Hogwarts didn't mean that _this _was-

His head angled away, Harry caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned around once more, gazing up, but saw nothing discernible. A few more breaths and Harry forced his face to shield any disturbance, cautiously retreating out.

"Are any of these, animatronic?" Harry asked after Kara joined him again a short distance away from the unnerving exhibit. Her hands were smoothing her hair down and it looked not unlike his own after he'd been on a swift broom ride.

Frowning she stilled her hands, lowering them to her sides, "What? No. I didn't see any signs, why?"

He reached out and placed a hand on her elbow, his face distracted. "I think we should-" His words of warning were cut short as a small blast echoed out of the upper level of the museum.

Harry moved in front of Kara as he scanned for the source of the chaos, bumping into her as she leant forward in tandem with him. People scattered, aiming towards exits and away from the noise.

"Stay down." Kara said, both of them bending below the sizeable Chemo display stand.

A crash behind caused Harry to turn about. Stepping out was the Ace Harry had been concerned with. Harry pulled at Kara's arm as they both scrambled up. The villain drew up one of the weapons that had been in the hands of his wax compatriots. Ace fired randomly, apparently seeking to cause chaos.

The teenagers fell back as the android advanced towards the stairs. A stray shot hit the wax figure of Gorilla Grodd, and the false primate began teetering over them as they scrambled away. Harry cleared the fall as Kara urged him out ahead of her as they doubled back.

Harry turned on his knees, looking down in dismay as he sought to lift the figure. He managed to push up enough that Kara dragged her hand loose. She curled up, bending on one knee as Harry spoke, "There's a fire exit in that hallway."

Harry gestured across the chamber, his voice lowered as he ducked his head around the pillar to glance about.

A rumbling crackle preluded a groan from the infrastructure above. The sound of more firing, but no corresponding panicked screams followed. Harry didn't see anyone still inside in his line of sight.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, his eyes darting about as he turned to his companion. From her intent expression she had. Kara nodded confirming his assumption, and reached forward grabbing his hand.

"This way." She tugged firmly, leading him in the opposite direction they'd been headed.

Harry drew up beside her as the ceiling above where they had sought exit collapsed to their level.

Concern for other patrons and employees flooded Harry, but he could hardly leave his friend before he asserted that she was safely away from the danger. Their section had been sparse with other people, and still no one seemed left as they came up towards the entrance of the building.

"You go on, there could still be people trapped upstairs." Harry gestured to the doors, free and clear of further obstructions.

"Everyone else is out." Kara insisted, not releasing her firm grip. "Can't you hear the fighting? These guys aren't hurting anybody else."

"Harry, come on." She insisted, nodding her head to the doors once more.

He nodded reluctantly after scanning the area once more.

Bursts of repetitious lights flooded his sight as they exited the building. They flurry of colors been filtered out by tinted glass, a feature meant to protect exhibits inside. Police cars with ambulances behind them were stretched out in formations on the street parallel to the front of the museum.

They were ushered to one side by authorities, gathered with other bystanders.

Harry caught sight once more of the man who melted into a streak of red and blue. Despite the distance they'd been pushed back, Harry witnessed the man called Superman fly out to speak with police officers. Tall and straight backed, there was something almost familiar about the hero. The number of pictures he'd seen since his first day in the city were no doubt to blame.

"That was, an experience." Harry observed as he glanced at his companion again. The crowd was being urged to disperse, and the teenagers were drawing back voluntarily down the street. The excitement over the robbery still set his nerve endings about. Not in fright of course; in alarm.

Kara seemed not entirely put off by the experience. Considering the vast majority of the girls and not to mention boys he was familiar with from school, her composure was impressive. In fact she looked a great deal more annoyed than he was himself at the senseless violence. "What kind of losers plan a heist in the middle of the day?"

"Maybe they're afraid of the dark?" Harry jokingly replied. The attitude to the events he'd witnessed in his time in the city was fairly baffling. Both at the museum and in the street his first day people were completely reassured after small bouts of panic that they would shortly be rescued. Kara herself seemed to have completely adopted this attitude, while only being a relative newcomer to Metropolis herself. Harry was fairly sure if he started appearing blasé towards chaos the Prophet would label him insane. Not that they needed reasons.

"This is Metropolis. Not Gotham." Kara dismissed with a wave of her left hand. He glanced over it remembering the display that had fallen onto it during the robbery. To his bemusement her wrist, forearm and hand all looked perfectly fine: no scuffs marred her skin and no early discolorations declared bruising was eminent. Harry considered with relief that it must not have been as heavy as it had looked.

Gotham, apparently an approximation of a Muggle City-sized Knockturn Alley, had a fair amount of disturbing occurrences and citizens associated with it; he'd been informed both from the newscasts he'd viewed and the articles he'd read. It hardly sounded like the place to visit as a tourist, let alone live as a resident.

"Oh, before I forget." Digging in his slacks pocket Harry spoke, "I got a cellular."

"Cell." She corrected. He looked up in confusion before Kara added, "Cell phone. They are called cellular, but they're usually called cell phones."

"Oh. Well. I have one now." He brandished it as though he was quite proud of his acquisition, though uncertain whether or not she thought it was acceptable.

A smile graced her lips and her hand stretched out. Kara spoke along with these other actions, "Hand it over."

He did so without question and she began swiping across the screen, pulling up Contacts. Her fingers flew across the screen with nearly supernatural speed and she handed it back smiling. "I sent myself a text so that I'll have your number."

"Brill." Harry grinned back at her, tucking it away once more. Kara glanced at her own phone rather often, mentioning Clark and others checking up with her. She'd been shocked when he'd confessed to not owning one when they'd first made arrangements to meet again. Harry had passed a store earlier in the morning and the magic of the Muggle Deterrent Passport the goblins had provided him extended to granting no hassle when he used the hotel's address for his account. Allowing funds to be withdrawn monthly had also solved the issue of payment.

* * *

><p>Shopping bags bounced against his legs as he boarded the elevator heading towards his floor. There were a couple of hours left until sunset; being the height of summer the day stretched past eight. He'd parted from Kara several hours ago after they'd wandered into a theater for a matinee. Harry walked sedately back to the hotel, the feather light charms he'd happily cast on the bags providing considerable relief.<p>

Harry set about unloading the bags onto the bed after he entered, closing the door with his foot. Black leather jackets two in number rested on the comforter alongside less important purchases. The shopping bags from the various stores he stuffed into the trash. Compressing them, rustling emitted from the escaping air.

Harry drew one of the jackets up, gathering one of the sleeves up and letting the weight of the rest of the jacket pull the rest clear as he swiped his wand in the air. The desired portion taken, Harry draped the sleeve on the surface of the desk. His wand held more carefully Harry sliced through the seam, cutting away below the elbow. Smoothened ovals were carved out of the upper portion. Taking more than a dozen tries to get the approximation correct, the general shape slowly took on something more properly mask like.

Fitting the lenses inside the holes Harry had to squeeze and adjust his hold. Once one was firmly in place he took his wand and cast the Sticking Charm between fabric and glass. Securing the last lens, Harry held the mask up to his face

He'd hesitantly experimented with the Sticking Charm on a portion of his arm to get a feel for the force necessary and what would not be harmful attaching and detaching the mask from his skin. It proved successful and Harry used it to apply the mask to his face. It drew a swath of black across his forehead, cutting short one inch below his hair line and one higher than his scar. The lower part hugged his nose above the bridge, tapered down into crevices. The sensation proved unfamiliar enough to be uncomfortable. It looked a great deal stranger than he thought it would as he blinked at himself bending over the vanity sink.

With the color of his eyes skewed in addition to the lightning scar being shielded, Harry considered with some pause that it looked like he would be almost unrecognizable from a distance. Shopping in Diagon Alley, walking about London, even the strange encounters he remembered from his childhood of overenthusiastic wizards and witches walking up to him, all were evident that his scar stood him out in any crowd. When he was younger, he was fond of how it looked, not knowing its origin nor its significance. Since he began Hogwarts, Harry did his best to cover it with his hair and was reluctantly prepared to be recognized by any witch or wizard with passing knowledge of Voldemort and by extension himself. Even in Metropolis he found it prudent to arrange his hair about his face. There was a certain thrill to being passingly-anonymous, but he was entirely certain that if he came in close contact with his own kind the anonymity would vanish. With the mask, he had firm indistinctness.

He removed the charm, cradling the end product for a moment. Harry returned to the bedside table where he'd tucked away the hotel provided pamphlets and guides. Laying atop the lot was the room service menu. Harry thumbed through and called to order in his dinner. Tucking away everything incriminating into his trunk, Harry settled onto the bed to watch the television waiting for it to arrive.

The sun began fading, natural light becoming too sparse to continue reading the Defense text he'd begun perusing after eating. Harry closed the text and placed it down onto the surface of the small table as he rose. His hands braced against the railings, Harry surveyed the city.

Withdrawing inside Harry turned the blinds shut, allotting a small amount of space left open and leaving the sliding glass door pulled back.

Harry considered his reflection again, nervously. He blinked owlishly behind the improvised mask. Turning in a circle, Harry kept his head angled towards the mirror as he surveyed the costume.

Harry gripped his Firebolt, checking over his form to ensure the Invisibility Cloak was secure and draping properly. He gripped folds between his hands and the shaft of the broom, leaning his entire body onto the broom Harry floated in front of the mirror, turning about slowly. Satisfied, Harry angled out towards the portion of space he'd left open for his departure.

He kept the cloak well wrapped, even as he flew higher above the city skyline. There were no doubt any number of cameras about that might capture his flight. He angled the broom down, setting down some distance from the hotel on a building not tens of stories above the ground, mid-sized.

The broom he set parallel to the edge of the roof, the small enclosing wall tucking it in nicely. Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over the broom, marking in his mind where he'd left them. The task of concealment ended, Harry stilled as he stood up and out. Harry turned and leant back against the rooftop, his back to the city and eyes gluing to the cement. Uncertainty was overwhelming further action.

Within a few more breathes Harry let himself slide to the rooftop. The mask he'd sealed to his face a short while ago felt foreign to his fingertips as rose a hand to his forehead. Knees drew up, a short space in front of his chest.

Snape's constant commentary about Harry being a 'glory-hound' rang in his head. His own friends thought he was well-intentioned yet foolhardy at times. He grumblingly accepted that they, his friends, had something of a point. He didn't like waiting to act. The very idea of seeing if someone else _would_ was ludicrous. He'd learnt over the years delays would only escalate a situation, and the danger.

It was true that were already people helping others, out here in the Muggle world. He didn't _have_ to do anything. And even if he'd done far more dangerous and not to mention idiotic things before didn't meant this was any less dangerous. Or less idiotic for that matter. And it was also hardly a way to avoid attention, as he'd set his mind to boarding the aircraft in London.

He was still hesitating when a sound like a firecracker startled him out of any decisions.

Bending on his knees as he turned his body and elevated it to look out, Harry cast his eyes downwards. Catching sight of a man running around the corner and rounding the alleyway, and another man not far behind. Harry took off towards the fire exit. Harry eased down, restraining himself from hurrying further and drawing attention.

Landing, Harry swung his wand out, repelling the aggressor. A bit too excited, the spell responded and was more powerful than he meant. The aggressor slammed into a dumpster, slumping over.

Harry drew closer, his wand steady as he watched the slowly moving aggressor.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry eyed the man who had been chased, he gestured with his free left hand for him to leave. The man was hovering at the edge of the opposite end of the alleyway where he'd retreated. Looking positively spooked, the man jumped, nodded and began running again.

"Who the hell are you?" The masked man demanded of Harry as he attempted to sit up straight. Harry's response was a red flooding light that overtook the criminal's form following the clipped and annoyed "_Stupefy."_

He stared at the man in contemplation. He didn't exactly want to stay around and chat with the incoming authorities. The sirens were off enough of a distance that he would hardly have to run if he departed shortly. On the same token, he didn't want to chance the man escaping if he didn't stay until they arrived.

"_Incarcerous_." The word concentrated in his mind, Harry cast the spell with a swift thrust of his wand in the man's direction. Voice lowered, ropes flew out of his wand and wrapped around the prone form. A few more than he meant; the man looked as though he were a human candy cane to Harry's bemusement. Harry reversed the stunner from the safety of the staircase. The man was still spewing obscenities when three police cruisers drew up, their occupants exiting with weapons drawn. They called out, what Harry couldn't hear, and surrounded the squirming bad guy.

Harry settled on his broom, leaving at the opposite end he entered after watching the man loaded into a police vehicle. He worried before they arrived that they wouldn't know the unconscious man was a villain, but the ski mask probably had something to do with it. As he flew along, he caught sight of the man who'd been attacked standing with police officers, gesturing wildly. Harry didn't dip down the listen, directing the Firebolt up and away.

He continued flying several additional blocks before pulling short. He'd gone beyond where he was familiar and drew his wand out for to cast Point Me. His wand drew back and right, indicating the direction towards the hotel. The action let Harry have some idea of where he was. Harry let his wand drop, severing the location spell with the gesture.

It seemed as though a lot of time passed, but to his consternation, it was a mere ten minutes since he had landed at the building.

* * *

><p>They were alone for the moment, not that Superman was surprised. Batman most likely wouldn't have messaged him to swing by if any of the other man's protégés were in the Cave.<p>

Before he could convey a greeting the other man asked without turning his head from the sizeable and fairly new computer screen, "When were you going to tell me you're letting her date?"

The 'her' was hardly a mystery. Batman had seemingly stood aside with his objections to Kara living off of Themysicra shortly after the incident with Darkseid. Superman knew his friend well enough to recognize it was only a matter of time before he would critique the decision. It had seemed more likely to be when Supergirl was introduced to the public and wetting her feet in the hero community.

"She's not dating." Superman crossed his arms, obscuring the S on his chest. "And it's not exactly your decision to tell her if she can or can't."

"She's a teenager and she possesses powers that she barely has a handle on. Powers that could potentially be unstable if she is emotional. Boys make girls emotional. Just like girls make boys _emotional_. In case you've forgotten."

Superman's hand drew up in dismissal, attention turned towards one of the many trophy displays so that the other hero couldn't see the irritation beginning on his face. That didn't keep his voice clear of the emotion, "She's stronger than you credit her."

"I don't doubt her strength. It's her hormones that I question." Batman responded with his own disapproval.

Superman shook his head, frustration warring on his face with irritation at his friend's continued questioning of his own beliefs and decisions. His arms no longer crossed he turned his head to address Batman. "Lois and I have already vetted him."

Batman finally broke eye-contact with his work, saving as he turned the chair away from the work station. Standing he walked over to the Kryptonian, "How in-depth did you go?"

"Everything he told us came up clean." Superman replied.

"That's not the question I asked." Batman's voice was as level as though he were lecturing one of the newer members of the League.

"Public records. He's, he's a nice kid. Look, I don't think he's out to hurt her." Superman held his hands out again.

Batman's face didn't alter an inch as he asked, "So you don't want to hear what I found?"

**TBC**


End file.
